A Whiter Shade of Pale
by whereismypen
Summary: Alternate Universe. In 1981, James Potter's sacrifice saved his wife and son. Frightened, Lily Potter had no choice but to flee the volatile wizarding world. Fifteen years later, the wizarding world catches up. Books One and Two. In Progress.
1. Blood on the California Sand

**Blood on the California Sand **

Harry's feet dragged on the warm pavement as he carried Ryan's stiff body in his lanky arms. Despite his earlier burst of adrenaline, Harry could feel himself slowing down as each step became increasingly difficult.

He was tired, the goopy mix of blood and tears were hindering his vision, and worst of all, he was scared.

But Harry also knew he couldn't stop moving. Those men, the men with the sticks and the spells, they would find him. And when they did, they would kill him with the green light; like they killed Ryan

Harry raised the shoulder of his arm to wipe at his eyes and he found himself approaching the bottom of the Pacific Pier. Here, the sand was thick because the oceans tide would dampen it. It was harder to move, but with the small strength he had left, he kept going. As he ran he breathed in the salty smell of the ocean's water and instantly found a little more strength. He could this. Pacific was his home.

As he moved, he briefly turned to look behind him. All he saw was the deserted beach and Harry felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he had really lost them.

"Help!" he called out once he was convinced the masked men were gone. His voice sounded weak against the steady crash of the ocean wave and he knew no one could hear him. Ryan's body became heavier as Harry ran under the pier. He tripped on a large gray rock that had been slightly concealed by a clump of sand and stumbled onto his knees in the wet sand. Ryan's body unceremoniously fell from his arms and landed with a dull thump. Harry leaned over Ryan's body and let out a dry sob that burned at the back of his throat.

If he didn't hurry and get _somewhere_, they would find him again. Who those men were, Harry didn't know. They wore white skull masks and long black robes that reeked of death. Amidst their curses and psycho babble, Harry understood that they had claimed that he was one of them. They claimed that his mother and father were one of them. And they didn't mean David, they meant his _real _father.

The one the others called 'Lord', who had the grotesque appearance of red eyes and snake-like nostrils, was the one that made Harry use the stick, _wand, _and it worked. Beyond all that Harry thought was rational and sane, he was able to use magic. Somehow, Harry managed to free himself from their painful clutches, but how he managed to do that, he couldn't understand.

Harry rocked on his knees over Ryan's body and after what seemed like hours, but could have only been minutes, he heard a loud sound that he recognized as only belonging to the siren of a police car and nearly collapsed with relief.

If the situation were different, he, along with Ryan would try and outrun the officers on their skateboards while their other friend Scott would pedal away in the opposite direction on his bike, their stash hidden in his left sock.

But this night wasn't like their usual crazy Saturday nights

Harry heard strong footsteps approaching and with all the strength that he had left he turned his head around, still leaning over Ryan's body.

When his head turned a bright beam of a flashlight shone in his face.

"Hey!" said the loud voice of an approaching police officer. The officer began to run towards Harry and Ryan. "What's going on here?"

"The masked men," Harry began to yell as the officer drew closer and only a hoarse whisper came out of his mouth. "They attacked us!" Harry knew he wasn't making any sense, but he didn't know what else to say. Who would believe him? Magic wasn't supposed to be real.

The officer approached closer, his hands positioned at his waist, on the handle of his gun. Beams of sunlight began to come through the pier as the sun began to rise. The sun beams revealed the officer's face and Harry remembered the old, gray haired officer that always got his dad out of traffic tickets.

The sunlight missed Ryan's face so the officer used his flashlight beam instead. Ryan's vacant blue eyes were eerily illuminated by the light. "You're Jacobs's kid, right?" the police officer asked, not taking his eyes from Ryan's dead eyes.

Harry tried to nod but his head felt like it was weighted down by rocks. "Yes," he finally answered.

The officer moved closer as he removed his hand from the holster and leaned over Harry and Ryan. He reached out a hand to Ryan's neck, searching for a pulse. Finding none, he looked up and took note of Harry's bloodied and bruised face.

"Are you alright, son? What happened here? There was a disturbance called in on Pacific Avenue."

Harry didn't answer, instead let out another sob that burned his throat. He didn't even know how to explain what happened.

When Harry didn't answer, the officer stood up and grabbed his radio from the other side of his belt. He said something that Harry couldn't understand. Words didn't seem to make sense anymore and the officers voice sounds far away, like the volume was being turned down. Harry felt himself weakening as everything began to grow darker and the police officer's silhouette began to blur. Everything thing was darkening around him as the early morning sun seemed to be setting once more. He fought to sputter out words.

"The men, they…please…I couldn't save him! I couldn't save Ryan...I couldn't save my best friend."

And then he knew nothing more.

**TBC**


	2. The Other Trio

**The Other Trio **

Harry leaned against his favorite palm tree, his long, lean legs stretched out before him as he leaned against the tree's light brown stem. This was his favorite tree because it was the one that was located in the far right corner of their outdoor lunch quad, where most people, especially the people that Harry despised, didn't bother to venture. As he sat, he ate his fancy and expensive sandwich (Herbed Vidalia Onion) he bought from the lunch line and attempted to look over his Pre-Calc notes before his next period quiz.

Harry turned the tattered and worn pages of his notebook, not really taking the complicated mathematical equations in. The beams of sun that escaped through the leaves of the palm tree placed distracting shadows on the notebook that Harry couldn't help but outline.

He sighed and looked at his watch. Lunch had just begun so he had about thirty minutes left to learn everything from the past week that he had neglected to study. He took another bite of his sandwich and a small drop of Tabasco sauce dripped onto his faded white Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt. He looked at the offending stain, annoyed. This wasn't his day.

"Jacobs!"

Harry looked up as Ryan and Scott approached and without a second thought, put aside his notebook. He smiled and nodded at them as they each took a seat on the prickly green lawn.

"Party tonight," Ryan announced, placing his launch on top of his skateboard, as if it were a small table. He carried the skateboard everywhere. "It's at Jessica Brennan's. Coming?"

Harry let out an involuntary shudder when he heard Jessica's name. "I think I have to watch Sarah, sorry," Harry said, not really meaning it.

Scott let out a disbelieving laugh. "She wants you and she won't stop asking about you!' he exclaimed. Scott gave Harry a quizzical look, "dude, you have it so easy and you're not going to do anything about it?"

Harry laughed, but shook his head at the same time. Jessica was pretty, but she was also like all the other vapid girls who lived in their exclusive area of Pacific Beach and went to their equally exclusive private school. Once Harry turned fourteen, had his braces removed, a growth spurt, and his balls dropped, girls began to throw themselves at him, each hoping to secure their spot as the future wife of Harry Jacobs, Pacific's richest son.

"Jessica's too easy though," Scott continued. "Raise your hand if you honestly haven't slept with her." Both Harry and Ryan raised their hand. "Or gotten a BJ from her," Scott countered. They both lowered their hand.

Not to say that Harry held himself above occasionally taking advantage of what was offered.

The boys laughed crudely as Harry finished his sandwich. He lifted a hand up to move his black hair that was obscuring his vision. Another few weeks and his mom would insist of cutting it. Harry didn't want to, his hair had finally gotten long enough to lay flat. He figured as long as it didn't get into ponytail territory his mom wouldn't bother him too much about it. He just preferred his hair long because it hid the stupid, lightening bolt shaped scar on forehead that everyone always asked about.

"So what are you doing Harry? You can't spend Friday night babysitting your sister; it's like, a code of teenage boyhood." Scott said.

"I have no idea, really. What's going on – besides Jessica's party?" Harry asked.

"We could drive to L.A.," Ryan offered. "My cousin's having one of his Hollywood parties. We could probably stay there overnight if we get too crazy."

"Hell no," Scott said. "You're not driving us to L.A. ever again."

"Why?" Ryan demanded. He threw his half finished orange at Scott's curly blond hair. "It wasn't that bad. We survived didn't we?"

"Yeah but I'm still having nightmares," Harry said as he laughed.

Scott didn't give Ryan a chance to reply before he went on, "Trips to L.A. is out of the question until I get my license in May."

Ryan rolled dark blue his eyes, but said nothing.

They spent the last ten minutes of their lunch period arguing over the night's plan before finally agreeing, with some resistance from Harry, to attend Jessica's party.

"It's not like you have to talk to her, Harry!" Scott said, sounding annoyed.

"Why are you so eager to go?" Harry asked, equally annoyed.

Scott let out a harassed sigh. "Fine, I'll tell you. Deanna Albright has 'shrooms. She promised me some."

"You should stop doing that shit," Harry said seriously. In the corner of his eyes he could see Ryan nod in agreement.

Scott rolled his eyes. "Please get off the moral high horse, you've done it too. And anyway, if you get too fucked, and you will, Ryan and I will make sure she doesn't attack you."

"Oh right, like you two are going to stay coherent," Harry scoffed doubtfully.

"What else are you going to do, Jacobs, your homework?" Scott asked. Harry couldn't think of a sufficient retort and Scott continued, "Ryan and I will pick you up at eight."

The bell rang, signifying the end of lunch and the three of them stood up. "Fine," Harry said, "I'll need some fun after I fail this stupid Pre-Calc quiz."

Scott clapped Harry's shoulder. "Knew you'd see it our way!" he exclaimed before throwing his empty lunch bag into a trash can. "See you guys tonight," he said before leaving in the opposite direction of Harry and Ryan.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," Ryan said as they began to walk towards the math wing of Harbor. Ryan had the same quiz, but he didn't seem to be worried, Harry noticed. Ryan usually aced all his classes, even though he spent most of his time with Scott and him; who only managed C's and low B's. The only class Harry ever got an A in was Chemistry. They were even going to let him in the AP class his junior year instead of his senior year.

Harry shrugged. "Nah, I want to go. It sounds fun. I just don't want see Jessica. But I guess her house is big enough for me to go unnoticed." All of the houses in their side of Pacific were big enough to go unnoticed in, but Harry was still sure that Jessica would manage to find him.

"Besides," Harry continued, "my mom is going to kill me when she sees I've failed another quiz. I might as well enjoy my freedom while it lasts."

Ryan got a dreamy look on his face, the same look that he always had whenever Harry mentioned his mother.

Harry scowled. "Dude –"

Ryan laughed, interrupting Harry's approaching tirade. "I can't help it, it's the accent!"

Harry punched Ryan's left arm as they walked into the classroom seconds before the late bell rang.

When Harry walked into his large home later that afternoon, he saw his nine year old sister, Sarah sitting on the floor in the large foyer, intently reading a book. She was dressed in her ballet clothes.

If he and Sarah hadn't lived in Pacific most of their lives, no one would know they were related. The only common trait they shared was their mom's bright green eyes. Sarah's wavy blonde hair was the exact opposite of Harry's straight jet black hair. Their features also differed. Sarah had their mom's small lips and high cheekbones and she had her dad's slightly long nose while Harry with his angled face and out of control hair, looked exactly like his birth father, James Potter.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked Sarah, taking his book bag off his shoulders and placing it on the hardwood floor.

"Waiting for mom," Sarah answered, lifting her eyes off the book. She made a dog ear in the page she was reading and closed the book. "She's supposed to take Maya and me to ballet practice."

"Doesn't Maya's mom usually take you to practice?" Harry asked, confused at this new arrangement. He couldn't remember his mother ever driving Sarah to practice, if Maya's mom didn't take them than Maria would. Their mom usually was at her volunteer job at the hospital this time of day.

"She's on vacation and Maria left early," Sarah said, answering Harry's unasked questions.

"Ah," Harry said, nodding in understanding. "So Mrs. Williams is in Rehab again? Poor woman," he said, not feeling very sorry for her at all.

Sarah shrugged and nervously chewed on her bottom lip. "I think we're going to be late. We still have to pick up Maya."

"Hang on Sars, I'll go and get mom for you," Harry said. He patted Sarah's head, and picked up his book bag from the floor as Sarah swiped her arm out to hit him. "Don't touch my hair!"

Harry walked down the large, white hall and up the grand stairs whose rails were made of marble. He quickly stopped by his room and dumped his book bag on his floor before heading towards his parent's room on the other side of the hall.

He knocked on the door once before quickly opening it. "Mom, Sarah's wai…" his voice trailed off as he saw his mom sitting on her bed, sadly staring at a photo album Harry instantly recognized.

When Harry walked in the room, his mom looked up at him, somewhat guilty. "Oh, Harry dear. How was school?" She quickly closed the photo album and stood up; her usually pale face was nearly as red as her hair. He didn't know why she bothered to hide the photo album from him; he already knew exactly what she was looking at.

"School was fine. Sarah's waiting for you," Harry told her.

Lily looked at him, seemingly confused before gasping in remembrance. "Oh, right," she said before leaping off the California King bed and hurriedly put on a pair of sandals.

"I'll be back soon, Harry. I think Maria made a snack before she left, it might be in the fridge," she said before hurriedly leaving the room.

When Harry heard his mother's footsteps going down the stairs he walked towards his parent's bed and looked at the photo album that his mom forgot to put back in her closet.

He looked at the faded gold lettering that read "For mum and dad". The album was of his mothers and his birth fathers wedding. He flipped through the pictures, even though he knew what they were of. He had seen these pictures more times than he could count. The first picture was a glamour shot of his parents smiling into the camera; his mother in a white gown and his birth father wearing a wedding tux.

The other pictures were less formal and included some his father's friends. A man with black hair laughing wildly with a brown haired man that looked more refined, but not any less amused. A shorter man, with blond hair was also laughing. He knew that the man with black hair was named Sirius and the man with brown hair was Remus. His mother talked of them with a fond voice. They had been best friends with this father. But the man with the blonde hair, Peter, was different. His mother's eyes flashed with fury when she explained to him that Peter had sold out his father, causing his death.

Even though Harry saw pictures of his mother's friends, he often wondered why his mother didn't seem to want any contact with them.

One of the last pictures in the album was one of his mother, his birth father, and himself when he was only a few weeks old. His parents were smiling as Harry was being baptized.

Even though his mom would always show him these pictures, he didn't know too much about his birth father, James. All he knew was that he was a "policeman, of sorts" and he was brilliant at sports. His mom's eyes would glaze over as she described his humor and his heroism. She grew sad when she explained to Harry that his birth father was killed by a criminal when he was only twenty-one. A few months after Harry was born, they had gone into hiding from a "kind of" British Mafia. It was that year, 1981, that Harry and his mom fled their native country, England and moved to Los Angeles. His mom wasn't there for long before she met his Dad. His dad liked to joke about how he picked up the prettiest lady from England in California of all places.

It was a bit of scandal when he dad and mom got married. Even though Harry couldn't remember, as he was only four when they had gotten married, he heard stories here and there from the town's notorious gossip, his aunt. Apparently, Pacific's richest business mogul marrying a poor, young, and foreign single mom caused a lot of whispers. The fact that his father is twenty years older than his mom and he already had two grown children didn't help much.

Harry got along fine with his stepbrother Michael, but his stepsister Anna, hated him and doted on Sarah. Harry supposed that Anna didn't believe that Harry deserved his share of his inheritance, as he wasn't David's natural born son. But Harry didn't worry about Anna too much, even though she only lived a few miles away in Laguna. He rarely saw her because she was always working, preparing herself to take over the family business and he only saw her for a significant amount of time during Hanukkah.

He saw Michael much more, even though Michael lived farther away in La Jolla with his wife and three young kids. Although some regarded Michael as a disappointment because he was an artist, Harry thought he was cool. Michael had bought him his first electric guitar on his eleventh birthday and even had his friend teach him how to play.

Harry sighed and closed the photo album and placed in the spot his mother kept it before leaving his parents room. He walked through the hall whose walls were filled with expensive paintings until he reached his large room and shut the door. He loved his room, when Harry had moved in here his father painted the walls a dark blue that still remained. He had a few posters scattered on his wall (Led Zeppelin, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and Jimi Hendrix) but he preferred the room to be rather plain. Through his window Harry could see the waves of the Pacific Ocean crash violently and he felt that was decoration enough.

He grabbed his book bag that still sat on the floor and threw it in his large, walk in closet. Instead of working on his homework, he decided to practice his guitar. Since no one would be home for about an hour, he could play as loudly as he wanted.

Harry was well known in Pacific because of his father and no one cared about anything else that he did. They only cared about how much money he was standing to receive when he turned twenty-one and that's why he was so disgusted by girls like Jessica, who only talked to him because of wealth. Harry had also dated another girl a few months ago, Lindsay, who turned out to be just like Jessica. Unlike Jessica, Harry trusted Lindsay, but he learned his lesson after that experience. Now, he only really trusted Ryan and Scott.

When he learned to play the guitar, he had done it in order to make a name for himself that was completely separate from the Jacobs. His father was a successful realtor, his mother was a kind humanitarian, and his sister had shown her genius tendencies and love for ballet at a young age. Harry, who had always felt less than spectacular in the town and within his family, found that he naturally picked up on the instrument. Only after three years of playing, his stepbrother had given him the nickname Jimi, after the legendary guitar player Jimi Hendrix.

His parents had supported his hobby by paying for lessons and buying him new guitars, although his favorite one was still the shiny dark green one that Michael had bought him. Through whatever magic that Michael had, Michael managed to get the guitar signed by John Frusciante the former lead guitarist of the Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Harry was proud of his skills because he had worked hard on learning every string and exactly what sound each one made and learning precisely how to move his hands and fingers to make music.

His mother and father were also happy with his musical talents. They had paid for every lesson he'd received and Harry supposed they, especially his mom, felt a little guilty about Harry's disorder, even though they couldn't have possibly prevented it.

A few weeks after his eleventh birthday Harry had been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, it was funny really; he hadn't started showing the signs of ADD until the week after his birthday when he found that he could no longer sit still and every moment he wasn't moving or talking or shouting was a moment wasted. He remembered feeling so much energy in his body, he could barely think straight for more than a few moments at a time.

Even though he was prescribed and still took Ritalin, playing the guitar became way for him to properly concentrate his energy.

Harry reached into his large closet and pulled out his guitar. He plugged it into the amp and reached into the small dresser on the side of his bed, for his green guitar pick. He saw several white ones, a red and a black one, but his green pick was no where to be seen. Harry sighed, aggravated. He didn't have much time before his mom came home from Sarah's dance studio and demanded him to lower the volume so that she could read.

Harry stood in the middle of his large room, surveying the area, attempting to remember where he last put his green pick. The problem with having so much space was that something as small as a guitar pick could go missing for months.

Harry cursed under his breath and bent down to look under his bed. "Not there," he muttered, frustrated. He wasn't super anal about it, but he liked playing his green guitar with his green pick.

After looking through everywhere Harry deemed possible, he once again stood in the middle of his room, his hand roughly going through his hair. "Where is it?" Harry yelled.

As if some force of nature caused a strong wind to burst in his room, Harry saw the green pick rise from its hiding space behind the frame of Harry's bed and fly into his outstretched hand. Harry stared at the offending pick for a moment before calmly putting it back into the dresser next to his bed, replacing his guitar back in his closet and finally sitting on his bed.

He laid back and slid under his covers; he was just going to take a nap.

** TBC**


	3. The Green Fairy

**AN:** These chapters aren't beta'd.

**Chapter 2 – The Green Fairy**

The Monday following Jessica's huge, and quickly becoming infamous party, Harry slammed his locker shut in the busy, crowded hallway. He leaned forward and rested his head on the cool metal. He was having headaches again - blinding headaches that practically left him in shambles. And for whatever reason, the pain centered in his jagged lightening bolt shaped scar. Harry felt a tap on his shoulder, but didn't lift his head.

"Harry." He heard a familiar voice say. He fought down a groan of despair.

"Jessica," Harry said, not lifting his head from the cool metal of his locker. "How are you today?"

"Not too – ugh, like, turn around when I'm talking to you, like _please_."

Harry reluctantly lifted his head and turned to face her. Jessica's unnaturally pale blonde hair was pulled into a haphazard ponytail and her bright blue eyes were wet with unshed tears. "What's wrong?" Harry asked. Despite himself, he felt a little concerned. Even though he hated her Abercrombie infested guts, he knew that Jessica never stepped foot out of her house without looking less than perfect.

"I called you this weekend, like, five times," Jessica said, placing her hands on her narrow hips.

"Sorry?" Harry said a little sheepishly. Of course he knew she called, if his mom didn't manage to answer the phone first, he made Sarah come up with a new life threatening excuse each time.

Jessica gave him a skeptical look. "Like, it wouldn't have been impossible to return my calls."

Harry shrugged. "I don't think I got the messages."

"Your sister told me she had given you my messages," Jessica continued.

Harry let his brows furrow in confusion. "Really?" There was always a catch with Sarah.

Jessica frowned, further distorting her normally perfect features. "I thought that after Friday-"

"After Friday?" Harry interrupted, instantly alarmed. Red flags waved violently in his mind as he hurriedly asked an important question. "What happened Friday?"

Jessica gave him one her patent blank stares that was a constant joke between him and his friends. "Friday, at like, my party," Jessica said. She spoke slowly, as if talking to a child and Harry felt an even stronger wave of irritation.

"What happened Friday, at like, your party?" Harry asked, this time imitating Jessica's condescending tone. He heard a loud shout of laughter and looked up to see Scott and Ryan standing on the other side of the hall, practically in tears from laughing so hard. He frowned and focused his attention back to Jessica.

He decided not to let her answer. "Look Jess, you know how I get at parties. I really don't remember Friday. I remember Friday afternoon and then I remember Saturday morning; everything in between is blank," Harry hurriedly said. "So, whatever happened, or whatever I said, just disregard." He knew he was being a jerk and felt some remorse over that, but he was being completely honest with her. The earliest thing he remembered about the past weekend was being shaken awake by his mother on Saturday morning. He somehow passed out on his front porch.

"But…" Jessica sputtered, completely nonplussed. She looked at him with an astonished and furious expression and Harry could tell that he had really hurt her feelings; but almost instantaneously, her watery eyes hardened and Harry braced himself for the slap he correctly foretold. His head banged loudly into his locker behind him with the force of the blow. His eyes watered as little blobs of light danced in front of his eyes.

"You're a jerk, Jacobs!" she screeched before storming down the hall and pushing past the people who had stopped to catch sight of one of Jessica's infamous temper tantrums.

Harry rubbed his stinging cheek, headache rapidly growing, as he walked over to Ryan and Scott who were doubled over and barely breathing from their intense laughter.

"Her hand print…on your face…" Scott choked out. His tan skin was alarmingly red from his laughter.

Harry waited for them to calm before he spoke. "What happened Friday?" he repeated for what felt like the millionth time.

"Jimmy smuggled in Absinthe from Tijuana," Ryan explained. He was referring to Jimmy Bankton; the popular senior had traveled to Tijuana that previous weekend with most of his class. The trip was already infamous with tales that were so crazy that Harry knew they had to be true.

"And I drank that?" Harry exclaimed, alarmed. No wonder his head hurt so much. "Did I know that it was Absinthe?"

"No, you didn't know. Jimmy just handed it to you and you know how you are once you start getting good and liquored up," Ryan said, with a shrug. He had stopped laughing completely; Harry could tell that Ryan felt guilty and gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Dude, you were saying the craziest shit ever. You were going on and on about magic charms; it was hysterical," Scott said.

"Magic?" Harry asked. He let out a weak laugh, suddenly remembering his guitar pick incident from the previous Friday. "Crazy."

"So anyway, Ryan and I are on the 'shrooms, but, being the good friends that we are we're trying to calm you down when Jessica comes in looking trashed. She takes one look at you and pulls you upstairs into her room and locks the door. Dude, I didn't think she was that strong. After that, we have no idea what happened," Scott finished.

"But this morning, Jessica comes up to Scott and me and says, 'you guys better be _nice _to me. Harry is like, my _boy_friend now. We're, like, to_gether_,'" Ryan said, mocking Jessica's valley-like accent.

"Which means you probably banged her," Scott told him matter of fact voice. "We heard moaning."

Harry briefly closed his eyes and tried to quash the approaching nausea. Trust him to lose his virginity and not remember. "Well, I'm not with her," was all he said.

"Anyway, Jimmy felt bad so he dropped you off at home while Ryan and I sobered up." Scott said, finishing the blank pieces of the story of the wild Friday night.

"While I appreciate Jimmy's generosity," Harry began with obvious sarcasm, "he dropped me off on the front porch and my mom found me; two weeks this time. Longer, when she find hears about the Pre-Calc quiz that I most likely failed," Harry said.

This set Scott off on another bout of hysterical laughter.

"No more Absinthe," Ryan stated. He looked at Harry with pity and something that he couldn't determine and Harry turned away from his gaze.

"You guys ready to go?" Harry asked. He was quickly tiring with the subject as his stomach ached with hunger. He had woken up late and didn't have time to grab an apple from the kitchen before he was being hurried to school.

Later that afternoon when Harry returned home from school, he was surprised to find his dad in their large kitchen, going through the cupboards and pulling out the bread products. It was only four o'clock and his father was usually at work around this time.

"Hey dad," Harry said, announcing his presence.

His father removed his head from the inside of the cupboard. "Harry! How was school today?"

Harry shrugged, not really wanting to discuss school and the fact that everyone, even the honors freshman, knew what had happened between him and Jessica at her party. "Fine, I guess. What are you doing?" Harry asked. "Where's mom?" He placed his book bag by the door of the kitchen and walked to the large island in the center of the kitchen and sat on top of it as he grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruits next to him.

"Your mom went to the grocery store for me. Passover is in a few days, remember? I suppose I ought to get rid of some of these non-kosher foods." His dad chuckled.

Despite his father's cheerful mood, Harry frowned. They never bothered to get rid of the non-kosher foods before. His father was usually lax about holidays but this new sense of purpose could only mean one thing…

"Anna's coming?" Harry asked. He felt a strong tide of horror rushing through his bones.

His father let out a great sigh and stopped shuffling through the cupboards. He looked at Harry. "Yes, Harry, your sister will be here."

"Stepsister," Harry muttered. His father heard him anyway.

"Listen, Harry, I know Anna can be a little…"

"Forget it dad," Harry interrupted. "I get it." He took a large bite from his apple, hoping to avoid the conversation.

"Do you?" his father asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, I get the fact that Anna has 'mommy' issues," Harry snapped, quickly becoming irritated.

His father let out another long, harassed sigh. "Tell you what. I'll stop this for a few hours and we can play soccer at the park, just like the old times."

"Dad, you're way too old and I'm grounded," Harry answered. Despite his foul mood, Harry couldn't help but to smile at his dad's bonding attempt.

"Oh yes, your mother told me about finding you passed out on the front porch. Two weeks, right?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah – well, three probably."

"Pre Calculus?" His father asked. He tried to fix a stern glare that looked foreign on his kind features. "Now, son, I know what its like to be fifteen year old. With temptations and such, but I'm going to have to ask you to stop being a…fifteen year old."

Harry laughed. "Okay dad." He smiled to let his father know he was alright and leapt off the island and made his way to his room. When he finished his apple he decided to lie down on his bed. With his constant headaches, two week grounding, and his growing realization of what he did with Jessica, Harry wasn't having a great day. And the prospects of hearing Anna subtly insult him and his mother for a whole evening, was not something Harry looked forward to.

Usually, Anna went with her husband's family to Passover dinner. Now Harry would have to hear an extra holiday's worth Anna of insulting he and his mother's Catholic background.

While Harry's dad was Jewish, his mother was a non-practicing Catholic who did not convert herself of him when she married his father. But not being Jewish didn't stop his mother from attending synagogue with his father, in the rare moments his father decided to go.

Harry didn't call himself Jewish, or Catholic. He was proudly apathetic, but still participated in his father's religious holidays. He even had a large Bar Mitzvah celebration two years ago.

Sarah was much more excited to participate in Jewish activities and often went to services with their next door neighbors, who were also Jewish. She had been baptized into Judaism and anxiously awaited her own 13th birthday.

Harry heard a knock on his bedroom door and peeked out from his position, wrapped up in his comforter.

"Harry?" he heard his mother say through the door.

"Come in," Harry answered.

His mother entered the room and sat on the edge of Harry's bed. "David told me about what happened earlier," she said. Harry noticed how his mother never said, 'your father' when talking to Harry, as she did with Sarah. She always referred to him as 'David'.

"I just really am not in the mood for Anna," Harry said.

His mother sighed. "Me either."

Harry looked at his mother, a little shocked. Over the years he never heard her say a single bad word about Anna, now matter how vicious Anna could be.

"What?" his mom asked, a small smile forming on her lips. "Anna isn't always a cup of tea and we're not that far apart in age; which means, Anna treats me like a peer that she hates."

"Why do you let her?" Harry asked, curious at his mother's impassiveness. "Technically, you are her stepmother."

His mother sighed. "She misses her mum. David and I were married only two years after her mum passed on. I suppose I understand some of her resentment," his mom said.

"Well, I don't," Harry told her bitingly. "We all have issues, doesn't mean we get to act like totally bit…idiots about it."

His mom gave him a searching look. "Do you have 'issues', Harry?" she asked him. "We don't talk as much as we did when you were younger, Harry. And I know sometimes Pacific isn't always the most welcoming place, but you know you can talk to me. I'll always be here for you. I'm your mother."

Harry looked at his mom, suddenly wanting to tell her about the incident with magic. Her green eyes, which were so identical to his own, were warm with acceptance. She would understand, wouldn't she? Could anyone understand?

"Harry?" his mom asked again, her green eyes squinted as she looked at him with concern and Harry made his decision.

"Nothings wrong, mom. Don't worry about it." He gave his mother a smile that he hoped appeared reassuring. He hated it when she worried about him. His mom hadn't had an easy life and he didn't want to be the cause of any of her unhappiness.

His mom didn't move, but stared for a moment. "If you're sure?" she asked him, finally.

Harry nodded. "I'm sure."

His mother rose from the corner of the bed. "Well, I have to get everything ready for Anna's visit. I suppose if she sees a speck of dust she'll complain to David about what a lazy tart I am."

Harry laughed.

His mother turned the handle to this door but stopped before completely exiting his room. She seemed to hesitate and Harry had a feeling he knew what she was going to say next. "Do you have a lot of homework tonight, Harry?"

Harry tried to keep the irritation from his voice as he answered, "Yeah, I do." If he wasn't careful, the conversation could go bad and they could end up having one of their loud arguments about school and his future. His mother couldn't seem to understand that not everyone was crazy about school and college. She often went on and on about how she was 'Head Girl' (whatever the hell that meant) at her boarding school. But Harry didn't care about things like that. Not that he knew exactly what he wanted from life, but he did know that whatever it was, it would have something to do with music.

"You should get started on it now; we'll have dinner in a few hours. And your quiz?"

Harry could see the trepidation in his mother's expression and let out a sigh. "I didn't do well; at all."

"I'll have to add another week to your punishment," his mother said.

Harry softly flinched at his mother's disappointed tone but didn't respond. Instead he once again wrapped himself within his comforter, closed his eyes and didn't move again until he heard the door shut close.

**TBC**


	4. Los Angeles Burning

**AN: **Thanks for the pleasant reviews. I really appreciate them. Yes, Harry's ADD is a product of him not using his magical skills. While I'm trying to pace myself, the first part of the story (Book One) will move quickly. I hope I'm not disappointing anyone too much.

This chapter jumps a bit.

**Los Angeles Burning**

The Saturday following Harry's long three week grounding, Harry sat in the backseat of Ryan's 16th birthday present, a new black BMW convertible. The weather was warm and dry so they left the top down. One of Harry's acoustic guitars occupied by the seat next to him while Ryan drove and Scott fiddled with the radio from the passenger's seat.

He was in a much better mood than he had been in awhile. He was no longer grounded, Passover dinner went with only one loud argument, Jessica stopped sending threatening letters, and his frequent headaches seemed to finally be subsiding.

"Dude, I can't believe I'm allowing you to drive me to L.A., especially after last time," Scott said as he settled the radio on a rap station.

"Blow me," Ryan replied. But Ryan's eyes were focused intently on the road as he merged on to the highway.

Harry felt the buckle of his seatbelt, just to make sure it was secured in. Feeling somewhat content, he leaned his head on the leather seat and closed his eyes. It wasn't that Ryan couldn't drive; he just tended to get nervous on the highway, which in turn made his passengers nervous. But until Scott turned 16 in May and he turned 16 in July, it was only Ryan who could legally get them places.

Harry didn't go to L.A. often, but he tried to get their every other weekend if one of his parents happened to be on that way. Sometimes when Michael had a show in Los Angeles, he would pick Harry up along the way.

"Holy Mother of God!" Harry heard Scott yell. He quickly opened his eyes to see Ryan merge a little too closely in front of a semi truck.

"Shut up," Ryan said, "I wasn't that close."

For the remainder of their traffic filled road trip, Ryan and Scott argued about Ryan's driving while Harry laughed in the back. He knew that they were joking; their relationship relied on jokes and insults.

Harry had been five when he first met Scott. His mother had just married his father and he had gone from living in a tiny two bedroom apartment in East Los Angeles to an opulent castle in Pacific Beach. Because he hadn't went to the accelerated pre-school program that most of other kids had, he hadn't known anyone. But when Scott pushed Elliot Taylor for making fun of him for being smaller than the other boys, they had become quick friends. Ryan, who had been shy and very smart, had joined the group a year later when he arrived from Berkeley. Ryan's occasionally sensible personality seemed to complete the trio. Scott was the athlete, Harry was the musician, and Ryan was the artsy academic.

They were his best friends and he didn't know what he would do without them.

When Ryan turned off the highway and approached Sunset Boulevard, he briefly parked in an illegal space, to allow Harry and Harry's guitar out of the car. He and Scott then left to find a legal parking spot while Harry walked down the popular street of his guitar on his back.

He stopped when he saw the older Mexican man wearing dirty layered clothes, sitting on the edge of Sunset, his old tattered black hat sat in front of him as he begged the people who passed for change. It disgusted, but didn't surprise Harry whenever he saw the large amount of people who just walked right past Jose.

Harry smiled widely as he approached the man. "Jose," Harry said.

"Jose looked up, staring blankly at Harry before a flicker of recognition came to his eyes. "Harry!" Jose called out, his light brown crinkled face crinkling further as he smiled. "Come to make me more money?"

"Of course," Harry replied, he got right to business and took his guitar off his back and sat down on the dirty, cigarette strewn sidewalk, next to Jose. As he readjusted his guitar, he thought for a moment before he began to strum the intro of _Hotel California_. As he played people more frequently dropped quarters, and occasionally dollars into Jose's tattered hat as Jose smiled and clapped along. Jose would occasionally sing songs in Spanish that Harry didn't understand; he had opted in learning French at his school.

As people in their twenty thousand dollar Chanel bags and equally expensive Armani suits walked past, they either stared in disdain or turned up their noses as they dropped money. Harry especially appreciated when the celebrities passed them, as they were eager for good publicity and often gave fifty dollar bills.

As Harry started to play a Red Hot Chili Peppers song he could only think about how absurd and unique Southern California was. He couldn't imagine growing up in another state or country. He was glad his mother had decided to move here after his birth father died. He loved the beach and thrived whenever his feet were deep in the sand. His mother would often talk about beaches in Kent County, where she and his birth father had lived but nothing could ever replace California. He played a few more songs until he saw Ryan and Scott approaching, each drinking a fancy iced smoothie from Starbucks. He finished the song and removed the guitar from his shoulders.

"You done?" Jose asked him, his eyes shinning in glee as he looked at the large sums of money in his tattered hat. He rubbed his dirty hands together and began to shove the dollars in his large pockets.

"Yeah," Harry said as he stood up.

"You did good today," Jose said, smiling as he looked up at Harry. "You made me lots of money!"

Harry smiled back before starting to walk towards Ryan and Scott.

"Adios, Harry!" Jose called after him.

"See you, Jose!" Harry called as he followed Ryan and Scott down Sunset. They were going to skate for awhile before heading back to Pacific.

Harry was joking with Ryan and Scott when a small man roughly bumped into him from behind. "Hey!" Harry shouted angrily as he stumbled from the shove. "Why don't you watch where the hell you're going?"

The thin-haired, chubby blond man opened his mouth to reply, but immediately stopped as he gazed at Harry, seemingly in shock. The man's watery blue eyes looked up at Harry's scar, which was only visible from the man's shove. Harry thought he recognized this man, but couldn't place where.

"L.A. is full of weirdoes," Ryan said after a moment of awkward silence of the man staring at Harry in shock and Harry trying to place where he remembered seeing the man. Ryan began to pull Harry away.

"That's why I don't do acid!" Scott called back to the man as they walked off. "Fucking psycho," he muttered to Harry as they walked away.

Harry cracked a smile, but couldn't help feeling shaken by how the man stared at him, as if he was seeing a ghost.

"Harry Potter!" The man said; his voice small and squeaky. Harry immediately noticed that his accent was British.

Harry stopped as if he had run into a brick wall. He shrugged off Ryan's hand and turned to face the nervous looking man. "Potter was my father's last name," Harry said. "Did you know my father?" Harry asked, careful to not mention his birth father's first name.

The man quickly nodded. "Of course I knew James, we were friends in school." The man laughed and twitched, as if he could barely contain his excitement. "I knew your mum too, Lily. How is she?"

Harry didn't respond for a moment. He couldn't remember ever meeting anyone from his mother's childhood in Britain. Not even his mother's rarely mentioned sister. "What's your name?" Harry finally asked.

The man's twitching stilled, as if he was shocked by the question and warning signals rapidly began to invade Harry's brain. "What's your name?" Harry asked again, his voice colder. He knew of course, that he, his father, and his mother had been in hiding when his father was killed. What if this man was one of the guys that were after their family?

"John…Abernathy," the man said after some hesitation. "My name is John Abernathy; I was great friends with your parents. Do you live near here? I'd love to see your mum again." His hand twitched again. "We were great friends in school."

Harry stared at him, attempting to memorize "John Abernathy's" features. "I have to go," Harry said after a moment. He decided not to answer the man's question. He nodded at Ryan and Scott and together they began walking down the crowded street.

"Wait!" the man yelled. "Harry! Don't you want to know more about your father?"

Harry didn't slow down, in fact, he paced faster. If he wanted to know about his birth father, he would ask his mother. Something was off about that man.

"Who was that guy?" Ryan asked once they were safely out of listening distance. He seemed shaken by the encounter.

Harry shrugged. "Not John Abernathy, I know that for damn sure."

"I keep forgetting Mr. Jacobs isn't your real dad," Scott said absentmindedly.

"He is my dad," Harry snapped. "But James Potter is too. It's not his fault he was killed."

Scott raised his hands in a sign of defeat. "Hey, no offense," he said.

Harry sighed. "No, don't worry about it," he said. "I shouldn't have yelled at you."

Scott nodded. "You're damn right you shouldn't have," he said while slightly laughing. Harry could tell that Scott was attempting to bring some humor back in the situation and he laughed too.

"We better hurry," Ryan interjected. "The skate park closes soon."

Harry nodded and the three of them walked towards Ryan's car.

On the other side of town, Peter Pettigrew rushed into the International Floo Network of Los Angeles, his hat pulled over his eyes, casting a dark shadow that masked his features. Peter knew that he didn't really need the disguise, as American wizards had long forgotten the first reign of the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord only took hold of the British Isles before mysteriously vanishing nearly fifteen years ago.

The name Harry Potter meant nothing to these people.

But Peter saw him. He bumped into the tall boy with the guitar whose black hair was long enough to cover his famous scar. But his hair flew to the side with the force of the impact and Peter, who had briefly thought he looking at the ghost of James Potter, realized he was staring at the boy-who-lived.

The queue quickly moved forward and Peter showed his identification card that read "John Abernathy" to an older lady who was behind the counter and moved to wait in line for the British Fireplaces. He twitched with anxious nerves and undeniable glee. He was going to inform his weakened master that he knew the location of Harry and presumably Lily.

Only a week earlier he was sent to California to find an old wizard, Forrest Dover, whom the Dark Lord was eager to get in touch with. And now Peter's week was over and he had failed to locate this man.

Peter had feared returning to Dark Lord's presence after his failure but now he had found someone better. Now, the spell that would return his master's long lost decimated body could be completed.

Peter stood impatiently as the queue slowly moved forward. He irritably wondered why so many people were trying to floo into England

Finally, it was his turn. "Riddle Mansion, Little Hangleton!" Peter shouted as he disappeared into a cloud of green flames.

Back in Pacific, some hours later, Harry sat in with Ryan and Scott in Ryan's dark basement. Hazy, rank smoked filled the air and Harry rubbed at his eyes, wishing he would have taken out his contacts before they had lit up.

He leaned back on the brown leather loveseat he had to himself as he watched Scott giggling hysterically as he used Ryan's acrylic paint to decorate a passed out Ryan with a full face of makeup.

"Dude," Scott said, his laughter made him almost unintelligible. "Ryan's going to be so pissed." "You know what?" Scott began a second later, his voice lowered with mischief," he's afraid of snakes. We should break into the pet store and get one. He'll piss on himself!"

Harry nodded vaguely. "We can probably free some of them too. When we were at the San Diego Zoo, that one time, one of the snake's from Brazil begged me to let him loose."

Scott stopped laughing and looked at him for a moment. The whites of his eyes were red, which looked strange against his bright blue eyes. "A snake from Brazil told you to _free _him?"

Harry nodded before closing his eyes in exhaustion. His distantly heard Scott erupt into another round of hysterical laughter.

Harry felt himself nodding off and smiled a little before fully embracing sleep.

_Harry found himself in an empty dark room. The place was dusty, as if it hadn't been cleaned in years and a small man stood in front of him._

_"It is him, my Lord."_

_"Yesss," Harry heard himself hiss in a snake like voice. "It seems my faithful servant that you have found the one person that every wizard in England is searching for." Harry felt a strong wave of glee. "You will search all of the area Wormtail until we find our fugitive."_

_The man called Wormtail bowed. "Of course, Master."_

_Harry smiled evilly. "We've been waiting for this day for what seems like eternity my dear Wormtail; fifteen years…"_

_"Yes, Master, we have." Wormtail twitched nervously before him and Harry felt a strong wave of annoyance at his cowardly manner. _

_"He will suffer," Harry said violently, returning his thoughts to what really mattered. "And his mudblood mother…they will suffer."_

_"Yes, Master."_

_Harry gazed at Wormtail. "You may leave, Wormtail." Beside him, a large snake let out a low hiss and curled against his side. _

_Harry Potter was at the tips of his finger. Nothing could save the boy now. _

Harry woke with a start. His hands flew to the scar on his forehead as a sharp pain hit him. He blinked furiously and looked around the room that was once again Ryan's basement. He saw Ryan, still passed out and with a face full on makeup and Scott passed out next to him, holding a paint brush.

Harry shook his head. "I've got to stop doing this shit," Harry said to himself before once again closing his eyes.

Six thousand miles away, in London, England, a man with long, shaggy black hair stood in front a window in his large home. Through complicated charms, he knew no one could see him. Not that anyone was out. Unsurprisingly, it was raining outside.

"Sirius," he heard a familiar voice call to him. Sirius turned to see Remus Lupin standing at the arch of the doorway to his bedroom and turned back towards the window.

"Breakfast's ready," Remus said. "The whole Order is here so Mrs. Weasley made a feast of it."

Sirius grunted. "I'm not hungry."

"She isn't mad anymore," Remus said, referring to an earlier argument between Sirius and Mrs. Weasley. They had butted heads since she and her family moved in to Grimmauld Place last July. Soon the kids would be returning from Hogwarts and Remus could only expect even more arguments.

Sirius didn't answer.

"Sirius?" Remus said with concern. He stood next to the Sirius and peered out the window, curious as to what was causing his best friend's angst.

"Tomorrow is James' birthday," Sirius said.

Remus nodded. "I remember."

"Lily shouldn't have left. She ran away to God knows where and ripped Harry from our lives, "Sirius said, becoming increasingly riled. Every time he thought about it, his temper would instantly flare up. "How could she be so _selfish_?"

Remus took a moment to gather his thoughts before he answered. "Lily ran away, but we mustn't hate her. She did what she thought was best for her child." If Remus repeated that to himself enough times, he would begin to believe it.

Sirius scoffed. "His family, Moony, would have been best for Harry. We aren't related by blood but we were a part of his family."

Unable to think of words of comfort, Remus simply nodded.

"I wonder what he looks like," Sirius said after a few moments of silence.

Remus allowed himself a small smile. "Just like James, I bet; with those bright green eyes."

Sirius laughed.

"Come on, old friend," said Remus as he led Sirius out of the room.

**TBC**


	5. WW2: The First Casualties

**AN: **I say a lot about Sarah but I haven't really introduced her. But no worries, you'll really meet Sarah in the second book.

**Chapter 4 – Wizarding War Two: the First Casualties**

A week after bumping into Harry, Peter Pettigrew stood in front of massive building and surveyed his surrounds. Behind him, and the building, the ocean's waves crashed loudly and the air smelled of sea salt. Above him, the large palm trees lightly swayed with the force of the breeze. So, this is where Lily had run off too. It was nice. For a moment, Peter allowed himself the brief dream of being the one who was able to escape to this oceanic paradise.

His dream was abruptly interrupted as he was roughly shoved by a teenager on a strange contraption: a piece of wood with wheels.

He shook his head and with a hand on his wand that was hidden within his jacket, Peter walked into the busy office. He spotted the information booth and spoke to the blonde haired young woman behind the desk.

"My name is Christopher Daniels. I'm here to see David Jacobs about the Huntington Beach property." Under the Dark Lord's commands, Peter had practiced speaking in a refined British accent and studied a reality book in practice of the day.

The woman smiled. "Right, Mr. Daniels. If you take the elevators to the tenth floor, Mr. Jacob's office is the left side. His secretary will be able to direct you further. Have a great day."

Peter tried to smile back, but he was sure what came out was more of a grimace. Sometimes he hated having to do the dirty work. Much too soon, he found himself sitting across from David Jacobs, who was tall and had dark hair and blue eyes. Peter knew that David was handsome and had a lot of money and couldn't help but to feel a twinge of _something _for James. For years, the Great James Potter along with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and himself had been his best friends. Sometimes, though rarely, he remembered what it had been like to be good.

"Huntington Beach is a great area, Mr. Daniels; your wife and children will love it," David said. He had laid out papers in front him that Peter couldn't really understand but looked over them anyway. Whenever David went on a long tangent he would glance at the photos of Lily, Harry, and what Peter would guess was his other children. There was a young girl with blonde hair who looked suspiciously like Lily and again, Peter felt the twinge of something for his old friend.

"Mr. Jacobs," Peter said, interrupting David's long speech. "Your wife is Lily Evans?" he asked while pointing at one of the picture frames.

David seemed surprised at his question, but quickly answered with a smile. "Yes, she is, Lily Jacobs, actually. Do you know her?"

"I knew Lily Evans and I knew Lily Potter," Peter answered coldly. "You are aware she was married before?"

"Of course I'm aware," David answered, this time seeming more hesitant of Peter's probing. "Mr. Daniels, I really don't know where this conversation is heading, but maybe we should steer it back on the topic of your Huntington Beach property."

"Do you know what your wife is?" Peter asked, completely ignoring David's attempting to change the topic. He put his hand in his expensive blazer pocket and fingered his wand.

"I'm not sure what you mean," David answered, nonplussed.

Peter cocked his head to the side and tried to put on a face of surprise but inwardly hiding his glee. "Well, surely Lily told you all about her before you were married? Quite frankly, I'm shocked."

"I assure you that I know my wife Mr. Daniels. More than you know her. Maybe we should cut this meeting short." David began to rise from his seat.

"So you know about the magic, do you Mr. Jacobs? You know your wife is a witch?"

David stilled in his half-risen state. "This is absurd Mr. Daniels. Our company appreciates you stopping by but I doubt we will need your business."

Peter scoffed. "Like I was ever here to buy a stupid _muggle_ house," he said. He quickly pulled out his wand and turned a paper clip on the side of David's desk into a small gerbil. "Your wife is a witch Mr. Jacobs."

David looked at the newly formed Gerbil in horror. In almost a blink of an eye he reached over to push the security button on his phone. Peter was quicker and said a spell that made the phone disconnect.

David pressed the security button a few more times before stopping. "What did you want?" he asked. His voice was weary.

"Sit down Mr. Jacobs," Peter said.

With some obvious reluctance, David sat back in his chair and leaned back. "So my wife is witch. I'll discuss that with her later. What do you want from us?"

"I find it surprising that Lily never told you the truth about herself. She was always noble, that one." Peter said. The way he ignored David made it seem as if he were just in his own soliloquy. He picked up the wedding photo of David and Lily and stared at as he talked.

"After James died she up and left England, you can't imagine how many years people spent looking for her. The whole wizarding population of England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland wanted to find Lily and Harry Potter. And _I _found them." Peter let out a small laugh of triumph. "The Dark Lord was pleased when he heard I bumped into little Harry Potter in Los Angeles, of all places." Peter let out a small laugh. "Except little Harry Potter is not so little anymore is he? Looks just like his father. If Lily hadn't run away he would be the greatest young wizard in England."

David, who had hadn't moved an inch during Peter's speech, interrupted him. "What do you want?"

"Just to make an example out of you," Peter answered. His voice was chillingly cold.

David didn't flinch. "I love my wife and I don't care about this hocus pocus crap."

Peter let out a condescending laugh. "Of course you love Lily _Jacobs_."

"If my wife didn't tell me about magic then she obviously didn't want it. And frankly, I can see why. I love my wife and I love my children, no matter what you say about them," David said.

Peter looked at him, and odd look on his face. "You are a fool, Mr. Jacobs. In your last moments, I want you to remember what your wife did to you, Mr. Jacobs."

David moved his mouth, as if wording his protest.

"Avada Kedvra!" Peter shouted. In a flash of green light, David Jacobs lay dead on the floor behind his desk.

Peter walked around the desk and stared at David's fallen body. "This is what love gets you, Mr. Jacobs." Peter muttered a spell and stared at the body moments later before calmly walking towards the door. He took in a deep breath and furiously pulled open the door. "Help!" he shouted out into the busy lounge. "Help! He's had a heart attack!"

Who ever said Peter Pettigrew was useless?

Miles away, at Pacific Beach Accelerated High School, Harry rested his chin on his hands as his History teacher went on about the Boston Tea Party. With interest, he raised his head a student came in to hand Mr. Lithgow a note before leaving.

"Mr. Jacobs," his teacher said, calling out to him. The entire class turned to stare at Harry, who always sat in the back. "You're needed in the main office. Take your belongings."

Harry nodded, happy for the excuse to leave, and gathered his things. He walked in the deserted hall towards the main office. Immediately when he entered the room, he saw his mother sitting on the front bench with the stern Headmaster, Mrs. Alden.

"Mom?" Harry asked, confused. "What are you doing here?"

His mom looked up and Harry was shocked at her red puffy eyes. Obviously she had been crying. "Mom, what's wrong?" Harry asked urgently. He walked next to the bench and put his books on the floor. He was vaguely aware that the entire office seemed to be listening in and wished they could go somewhere more private.

"Oh Harry!" Lily exclaimed, her voice thick with tears. "David. Your father…"

"Dad?" Harry asked, worried. His heart began to beat faster and he almost knew the answer to his next question. "What happened to dad?"

His mother shook her head, unable to speak.

Harry turned to the headmaster, who stared at him with sympathy in her tired brown eyes. "I'm sorry, Harry. Your father suffered a heart attack this morning, he was quickly taken to the emergency room but he didn't make it. I'm sorry."

A million thoughts furiously raced in Harry's head as his mother stood up and fiercely hugged him. He rapidly blinked his eyes.

"I'm so sorry Harry," his mother whispered into his shoulder.

Harry weakly patted his mom's back.

After what felt like forever, he felt his mom untangle herself from him.

"Sarah?" Harry asked, his voice breaking uncomfortably.

His mom shook her head. "She doesn't know yet. We're going to pick her up from school now. Then we'll meet Michael and Anna back at the house. They're waiting for us." His mother fiercely hugged him once more, gave a thanks to Mrs. Alden before leading him out of the office.

There are moments in Harry's life he knew he would never forget. When he and his mother picked up Sarah from school they had waited until they got home before they told her, each of them avoiding her gaze as she anxiously asked questions. Sarah was a smart girl; she immediately knew that there was something they were telling her.

The wail that Sarah let out when his mother calmly told her the news of their father cut into Harry's soul. She had collapsed to the floor as sobs violently shook her small body. Sarah had always been the closest to their father. She had been the definition of a daddy's girl. As he watched her mother fiercely hug his sisters shaking form, he felt his own body shaken as he fought to suppress his own sobs.

It wasn't until much later into the night that Harry collapsed into his own grief. He wrapped himself around his comforter as his own sobs tore into himself. He just couldn't believe that he would never see his dad anymore. Nothing was making sense anymore and he couldn't feel anything but overwhelming grief.

Maybe he just wasn't meant to have a father.

A few days later, dressed in his expensive black suit that held a piece of torn black ribbon pinned on his right side. Harry sat with his arms wrapped around his knees on the strip of beach that was just behind his house and stared out at the ocean. His cheeks were wet, but he made no move to wipe at his face.

Because of the loud crashing of the ocean waves, Harry didn't hear the two pairs of feet walking towards him. But he didn't move when two bodies sat down on either side of him.

"Harry?"

Harry recognized Ryan's voice, which meant that it was Ryan and Scott that sat next to him.

"Harry." It was Scott this time.

Harry still didn't answer.

"Your mom sent us out to get you," Ryan said softly and Harry could barely hear him. "The limo should be any minute now."

Harry shrugged. "Okay," he said, speaking for what felt like the first time in days.

"How have you been Harry?" Ryan asked him a moment later. "We haven't heard from you ever since..."

Harry snapped and angrily glared at Ryan. "What the hell do you mean, 'how have I been'? My fucking father just died."

Ryan looked at him with a hurt expression and Harry instantly felt bad, but refused to apologize.

"Hey," Scott said, sounding calmer then Harry could ever remember. "We're you're friends Harry, we're just worried about you."

Harry shrugged again. "My dad is dead. I keep saying it so that'll become more real, you know? So that I can accept it and move on and so that everything would hurt so much less." His voice broke and Harry stopped talking. He felt Ryan put his arms over his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," Ryan said to him.

On the other side of him, he felt Scott stand up. Scott moved into his line of vision and held out his hand. "Come on, dude. Get up."

Harry allowed Scott to pull them up and together the three of them walked towards Harry's house and towards Harry's final goodbye to his father.

Harry had never been to a funeral before. As he sat in the front row of the pews, Sarah on the right and his mom on the left, he felt distinctly out of place. On the other side of his mother sat Michael, then Anna, their spouses and children sat in the second pew along with his father's sister. The large Synagogue was packed with Pacific's richest but Harry couldn't remember ever having a conversation with any of them. Whenever any of them stopped by his house he made it a point to hide in his room. He knew that somewhere in the crowd sat Ryan and Scott and he felt just a little bit better.

After Michael had recited the Kaddish (Anna had insisted on a tradition funeral), Harry didn't really listen to what the small Rabbi who stood in the front of the Synagogue had to say. Instead, his thoughts went to memories of his father. Like the time his father thought it would be a good idea to take him, Ryan, and Scott to the San Diego Zoo. They were eleven and it was a disaster, of course. And Harry was pretty sure they were no longer allowed at the San Diego Zoo.

And Harry remembered his mom and dad's wedding when he was four. He had been the pallbearer, much to his anger. Harry could remember feeling so angry with his mom for marrying this new man. Of course, he didn't remember his birth father but he thought that this new man was stealing his mother away from him. The first few months in Pacific Beach were terrible. It wasn't until his father started playing soccer with him that Harry began to like him.

He remembered Sarah's birth when he was only six years old and he remembered his father taking him to McDonald's and talking with him while his mom was in the hospital. Making sure he knew that he loved him.

His dad had always loved him so much.

The service passed quickly and next to him, he felt his mother stand and he followed her move while gently tugging Sarah up with him.

He saw Michael motion towards him and he followed Michael towards the front of the Synagogue and stood at his place next to his fathers closed casket. His cousins Eli and Josh followed. Together they lifted his father's casket and walked towards the exit. Behind him, his mother, Sarah, Anna, and other closely related family members walked behind them. And behind them, the rest of the funeral's guest followed.

As the walked towards the burial site, they stopped seven times to recite Psalm 91. When they had finally reached the grave, Harry, his brother, and his cousin lowered the wooden coffin. They each stepped back while the Rabbi said a few more words. Harry, his mother, Sarah, Anna, and Michael each threw a handful of dirt on the grave while the Rabbi repeated Psalm 91 and recited the El Maleh Rachamim.

As the funeral ended, the guests who knew the traditional condolences recited them as they walked out of the graveyard.

_"Hamakom y'nachem etchem b'toch sh'ar availai tziyon ee yerushalayim." _In English, it meant, may God comfort you among all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Harry walked with his arm around his mom's shoulder and his hand clutching Sarah's trembling one.

"We'll be okay, Harry," his mother whispered to him, her voice thick with tears. Harry felt as if she were asking him, rather than telling him.

"We'll try, mom," Harry responded. "We'll try."

**TBC**

**AN2: **I had to consult google for the Jewish customs seen in this chapter. If my ignorance grossly offended anybody, please correct me. My source is the United Jewish Communities website.

Chapter 5 should be out later today or early tomorrow.


	6. And the World Falls Over

**Chapter 5 – And the World Falls Over**

Harry had long given up on anything returning to normal. It had been a month since his father's sudden death and Sarah still didn't move from the couch and refused to attend ballet lessons, even when her friend Maya pleaded with her. Sarah, who had always hated the television and preferred her books, would sit for hours, watching mindless cartoons and music videos on MTV.

His mother had long given up trying to force her to go and instead spent hours focusing on all the unfinished business his father had left behind. Being the important man he was, he had left behind a lot of business that his mother couldn't solve on her own. Anna, as the heir of the Jacob's Realty Company was over more often, much to Harry and his mother's chagrin.

As for Harry himself, everything was spiraling out of control and he had long ago stopped fighting the madness and instead gave into it. Considering that he was currently lying down next to Jessica in her queen sized mattress of her huge pink room, things were far out of control.

Harry sniffed loudly and rubbed at his nose.

"You okay?" Jessica asked sleepily.

"Do you have anymore?" Harry asked, ignoring her question.

Jessica nodded and reached over to the small dresser on the side of her bed and pulled out a small baggie.

"Hey," she said before handing him the bag. "You sure you need more, I mean like, we just…"

"Jessica," Harry interrupted her. "Just shut up and please hand it over."

"God, you're like, so rude sometimes, Harry" Jessica said, rolling her eyes as she handed over the small, nearly empty baggie.

"And yet you keep following me around like a lost puppy," Harry rudely muttered.

Jessica stared at him for a moment, as if coming to a realization. "Yeah, and I think I'm done."

Harry looked at her and for a moment his bright green eyes connected with her blue ones. He removed himself from her bed and pulled up his jeans and threw on his t-shirt. He put the baggie in his pocket. "See you, Jess." He walked towards the door.

"Find another source, Jacobs!" Jessica shouted at him. "You are such fucking coke head."

Harry shrugged, opened the door, and left.

The problem with leaving Jessica's place was that he didn't have anywhere else to go. Anna would be at their house and he didn't want to deal with her staring at him as she worked on their father's will. He struggled down the short cliff behind Jessica's large mansion and fell a few feet onto the sand. He walked towards the ocean and sat, staring at the waves as they crashed violently.

He didn't know what he was looking for. Everyday he did this, stared at the ocean, longing for something – anything. Life was complicated, Harry thought to himself. Instantly as the thought passed he snorted at his naiveté.

Instead of thinking of such abstract topics, he decided to think about his real father, James Potter, the heroic policeman, who had died protecting his family. If only Harry were like him. Instead, Harry thought to himself, he was a fucked up druggie who couldn't pass his classes, get along with his family, or make his mother happy. The only connection that remained with him was his guitar. He still played, somehow he was able to pretend, for those moments that everything was the same.

He was meant to meet with Ryan and Scott later on that night, for the first time in forever, it felt like. He had only agreed because he gave Ryan money to give to a friend for more coke.

Remembering, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the baggie he had taken from Jessica. There was barely enough left – but there was just enough left to make him forget things for a few more hours. He scooped up the remaining powder with a tiny spoon and brought it to his nose. For a moment, he thought of his mother, his sister, and his two fathers before taking a long sniff. He threw the baggie down on the sand and let his upper body fall backwards into the rough sand.

This was enough for now.

Later that night, Harry walked to Scott's house in a daze. Barely pausing to say hello to Scott's parents, he left to Scott's room where both Scott and Ryan were waiting for him.

Scott was talking to Ryan when Harry opened the door, but immediately stopped and looked guilty. Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hey," Harry said, standing awkwardly by the door.

"Hey," said Scott. Ryan didn't say anything.

"So what's the plan for the night?" Harry said, as we walked further into the room and shut the door behind him.

"Uh, I don't know, dude," Scott replied. "Ryan's wasted already." Harry saw Scott eye Ryan and Ryan finally spoke up.

"I forgot it," Ryan said, his speech slurred.

Harry looked at him funny, not understanding. "What?"

"I forgot your…coke…in my house," Ryan answered. "I'm sorry."

Instantly, as if a switch went off inside of him, Harry was deeply irritated. He roughly ran his hands through his hair. "Dude, I can't believe you fucking forgot it at your house. I gave you two hundred dollars for a dime. Money doesn't grow from a fucking tree, dude."

"Jesus Harry, he said he was sorry," Scott snapped at him, shocked by his outburst. "What the hell is wrong with you lately? You know what? You need to stop doing it. It's fucking up your personality."

Harry didn't say anything; instead he shook his head and stared at the wall. The room was silent.

"Listen Harry, I'll go back and get it, okay?" Ryan finally said.

"You can't drive to your place now," Harry muttered. "You're wasted." Ryan could always make him feel so guilty and Harry regretted even saying anything.

"I'll walk," Ryan answered.

Harry shook his head. "Don't worry about it."

"No," Ryan said, wobbling as he stood up. "I'll fucking go and get your stupid coke," he said angrily.

Both Harry and Scott looked at him, shocked. Ryan rarely got angry with either of them. And if he did, he rarely said anything; he pouted.

Ryan teetered towards the door.

"He's never going to make it," Scott said.

Harry rolled his eyes and stood up. "We'll be back."

Scott nodded and turned his attentions towards the television. "You better hurry up," he called out as Harry walked towards the door.

"Scott and I are worried about you, Harry" Ryan slurred as they walked in the dark night. They took a short cut through a dark alleyway towards his house.

"Don't be," Harry said, not wanting to discuss anything at the moment.

Ryan shook his head. "No, we have to be. I know your dad dying was horrible. I miss Mr. Jacobs too. But you're ruining your life…more then you usually do."

"Shut up, Ryan," Harry answered, annoyed.

"No! Can't you see what you're doing? I can't shut up," Ryan said. His voice wobbled and he tripped over his feet and Harry felt a wave of irritation. It was hard to take the 'stop doing drugs' speech from someone who was too drunk to walk in a straight line.

"You're banging Jessica," Ryan said after a moment of silence. "You shouldn't."

Harry scoffed. "And why shouldn't I? I thought you and Scott said I should've banged her a long time ago."

Ryan stopped walking and Harry stopped too and Ryan stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You shouldn't because I'm fucking in love you with you, Harry. God, I can't believe you haven't figured it out."

Before the surprised Harry could respond to Ryan's drunken declaration, Ryan leaned forward and placed his lips over his own. The kiss was brief and harsh, and Harry uncomfortably noted how warm Ryan's lips were on his own before he roughly pushed Ryan away.

Ryan fell hard against the brick wall and there was silence that was only interrupted by Harry and Ryan's harsh breathing.

"I'm sorry," Ryan immediately began to spout out apologies. "I didn't know if, I mean, I didn't mean to…"

Harry shook his head and tried to get some sort of sense in his mind. "It's okay," Harry finally said, interrupting Ryan's spout of apologies. "But I'm not…"

Ryan quickly nodded. "Of course, I'm sorry. Don't tell anyone, please. Not even Scott."

"I won't." Harry didn't know what to say after that but instead nodded towards the end of the alleyway. "We should go back. We can get the stuff tomorrow."

They walked towards the exit of the alleyway but were quickly stopped. A soft 'pop' was heard as a masked man with a long black robe appeared suddenly before them.

"Well, well, well," the masked man said, "If it isn't the long missing Boy-Who-Lived, right before my very own eyes. I must say that I'm shocked. I didn't believe that the mousy and weak Peter Pettigrew could find you."

"Who the hell are you?" Harry said, frightened, but hoping that he didn't show it. The man appeared out of nowhere.

He felt Ryan stumble beside him.

"And who is your kissing friend?" The man walked closer towards him and Harry saw the man's long pale blond mane and he was vaguely reminded of Jessica.

Harry grabbed onto Ryan's arm. "Ryan, run," he tried to whisper. He knew that whoever these men were, they were looking for him and not Ryan.

"I'm not leaving you," Ryan muttered.

The man chuckled. "How noble," he laughed. "I suppose, it doesn't really matter who he is. Does it?" he asked cruelly.

"RYAN, RUN!" Harry fearfully shouted. He knew what the man meant and he knew that the man wouldn't hesitate to kill Ryan. He shoved Ryan towards the back exit of the alley.

"Avada Kedavra!" The man yelled. And in Harry's horror, he saw a bright green light flash towards Ryan and hit him square on the back. Ryan collapsed.

Harry quickly moved to Ryan's still frame. "Ryan?" Harry shook him. "Ryan…RYAN? No, no, no, no, no…"

Harry heard another soft 'pop' from behind him but he didn't turn around. He continued to shake Ryan, not wanting to believe what he knew was true – Ryan was dead. Just like that, he was dead.

"Ooh the ickle little boy has lost his friend, how positively sad," he heard a woman's high pitched voice say. "Turn around, _savior,_" the woman continued, hissing out the last word as if it were a curse.

Harry didn't move. He was frozen in his spot. This wasn't real. This wasn't happening.

As if some force were forcing him to move, his body turned around against his will. A woman, who was also wearing a mask, faced him. Behind the mask her hair was a scraggly dark mess, the opposite of the man who preceded her.

The woman gasped. "Oh my, wittle Harry Potter grew into a very handsome young man." She walked towards him and moved her masked face until it was inches from his. She reached out her long pale and bony hand and used one of her dirty fingers to rub an invisible line down his cheek. Harry flinched away.

"Tut, tut, tut," she muttered. She turned away from him and talked toward the man with the blond hair.

"Lucius, where are the others?" she asked him, the seemingly normal question managed to sound psychotic from her.

As soon as the woman uttered her question, a series of soft 'pops' filled the air and to Harry's horror at least twenty other masked and robed men appeared. This wasn't happening; this wasn't real.

"And here they are, Bellatrix," the man answered, "though a bit late. As for our Lord, they should be here soon. Until then, we play."

"You shall not play, Lucius," a high squeaky voice said, Harry couldn't see where the voice was coming from. "Bind the boy and bring him to me."

"Yes, Master," the man Lucius muttered and in an instant, thick ropes wrapped tightly around Harry's wrist and ankles, binding them together.

"Who are you people?" Harry asked. His voice wobbled with fear.

Around him, the masked men and women laughed cruelly.

The man named Lucius pointed his wand at him and Harry flinched. "Oh, no, not yet," Lucius said smiling. "We need you alive for the moment."

One of the many men in the crowd grabbed Harry and dragged him towards the edge of the alley way, towards one of the few spots that had light. What Harry saw nearly made him scream and throw up at the same time. He saw a man, no, it wasn't even man, it was something grotesque, like a little alien baby.

"Harry Potter," the thing hissed at him. "How long I have waited for this moment. Fourteen years; fourteen very long years. But now you are here, right in front of me."

Harry didn't say anything, still struck silent.

"Speak," the thing hissed.

"Who are you?" Harry asked, his voice cracking with mounting fear and disgust.

"For I," the thing hissed, "am Lord Voldemort." The masked men around him flinched in a comical union that Harry would have normally found funny.

There was no part of Harry that desired to laugh this time. "What do you want from me? Why did you kill my friend?"

"He was in the way, master," the man, Lucius answered.

"He was a muggle," the thing spit that word out with undisguised disgust.

"Just let me go home, let me take him home," Harry pleaded.

"They were kissing, master," Lucius said. Around them, the crowd rippled.

"Silence," the thing said, and the crowd was instantly hushed. "Filth," the thing hissed to Harry, staring at him in disgust.

"Listen, Vold-," Harry was instantly cut off by a wail of disgust.

"How dare you speak his name, you filthy half-blood?" screeched the crazy black-haired lady, incensed by the apparent faux pas.

"Silence, Bellatrix," the thing said. "The boy is insolent, yet unknowing." The thing kept his eyes on Harry as he motioned to a wizard who wasn't dressed in the robes. Harry gasped when he saw who it was, the man he had bumped into all those months ago in Los Angeles.

"So you recognize him?" the thing asked, seemingly amused. "Yes, Peter surprised us all by finding you."

"You were my father's friend!" Harry shouted, instantly placing the man's face to the ones he had seen in his parent's wedding album. "I remember you now, you betrayed my father!"

Once again, the crowd around them laughed.

The thing, who had stared unflinchingly at Harry, began to spoke which quieted the crowd. "What do you about who you are Harry?" The thing asked, sounding almost fatherly.

Harry didn't answer for a moment. "I don't understand what you mean," he finally said.

"Who is your family, Harry Potter?" the thing asked.

"My mom, my sister…I don't know what you want!"

"Your sister?" the thing said. "Yes, Peter mentioned the blond young girl." He paused as if lost in thought. "Who is James Potter?"

"My father…he was a policeman but he's dead, he died along time ago."

Once again, almost as if on cue, the crowd rippled with slight laughter.

"A policeman," the thing hissed, as if in disgust. "I see we've found the gap," he said. "Your mother has lied to you all these years, Potter. You are a wizard."

"A…a what?" Harry didn't really want him to repeat it. "Just let me go home, please."

The thing didn't answer him, but turned to Peter Pettigrew. "We are wasting too much time, cut him."

"No!" Harry shouted, but with no avail, as a thin line appeared near his wrist by _magic_, he guessed. The blood dripped down his arm as Peter hurriedly collected the blood into a small cauldron. Harry almost laughed; this couldn't be real.

"Finish the potion," the thing commanded, "quickly!"

As if time stood still, nothing was moving in the alleyway except for Peter. From what Harry could see, the potion was finished and it was quickly being fed to the thing. What Harry saw next would never be erased from his memories.

The cauldron dropped and the thing began to sputter and cough violently. Then a red light exploded from the thing's middle, engulfing the entire alleyway and temporarily blinding everyone around them. The light faded and Harry could see the thing hover in the air and distort itself. Moments later, another light – green this time, exploded once again blinding everyone and when Harry was finally able to see again no longer was the thing standing in front of him, but a fully grown man with horrible blood red eyes, and slits like a snake, for where his nose should have been.

The man stood in front of everyone, gazing almost wonderingly at his arms that were stretched in front of him.

"My wand, Wormtail," said the man, finally. Immediately Peter rushed over and handed Voldemort his wand. The wand was immediately pointed at Harry, who flinched.

Instead of seeing a green light fly towards him, the ropes that bound his wrists and ankles together limply fell off.

"You're letting me go?" Harry asked, disbelieving. There was no way they would let him walk out of there, not after everything he saw.

"Give him Potter's wand," Voldemort hissed to Peter.

Peter nodded and quickly threw the long brown stick to Harry's feet.

"Pick it up," Voldemort commanded of Harry. Seeing no other choice, he picked up the wand. It instantly warmed up to his fingers; almost as if it were becoming one of him.

"You are no muggle, Harry Potter. Defend yourself!"

Harry barely had time to think as Voldemort pointed the wand, seemingly at Harry's heart.

The masked group around them waited in baited breath as Harry lifted his own wand. They knew he was going to die. Even if they all claimed Harry was one of them…a wizard, he didn't know any spells.

Harry looked into the red eyes of the man who challenged him, and remembered his friend, who lay on the other side of the alley, no longer alive. He wanted to make them pay.

As if one cue, they both shouted the same spell at the same time. "Avada Kedavra!" It was the only spell that Harry knew.

What happened next, Harry couldn't explain, but their wands connected, leaving a blue stream of light.

"Do nothing!" exclaimed Voldemort to his followers. Harry didn't understand it but he held on to his wand for dear life.

Suddenly, figures began to swim out of Voldemort's wand; figures that Harry recognized immediately. First, Ryan came out, pale as a shadow. Following him were both of his fathers, David Jacobs and James Potter, equally as pale and translucent as Ryan.

"Hold on Harry," he heard his father James, whisper to him. "We'll protect you; just hold on."

"Harry, dude, I don't know what this is or what I'm doing but this is kind of awesome," he heard Ryan whisper to him and Harry fought the urge to laugh. "I'll miss you, buddy," Harry heard himself whisper.

Ryan nodded and smiled shyly.

His other father, David smiled at him too. "Make us proud, son," he whispered.

"I will," Harry whispered back. "I will."

"Harry, we'll surround them, and once we do, let go of your wand and run," James told him. "And tell your mother that I love her and that I'm not mad."

Harry nodded. "She misses you both," he said.

"Take my body," Ryan added.

Harry nodded once again. "I'm ready," he told them.

"Let go!" James Potter yelled. And Harry dropped his wand and without looking back, ran to Ryan's body and picked him up, escaping quickly from the alleyway.

**AN:** This chapter took almost a year to write, and I apologize. I was stuck with what I wanted to do. There's one more chapter left of Book I and it'll be out sometime soon. I'm hoping to get it done before I start my senior year of college, which is shaping out to be incredibly busy.

As you can see, I tried to reference the 4th Harry Potter book, but with obvious changes. I'm a little at lost with how I'm going to deal with the plot that JK Rowling fleshes out, but I'll try.

And finally, the 7th and final Harry Potter book was amazing.


	7. This is the End

AN: My old computer crashed in late 2007 so I lost a lot of the material I had for this story. I'm pretty upset about it but I will trudge on, I guess. This is the last chapter before the next story.

Part I of A Whiter Shade of Pale was meant to be an extended prologue. I wanted Harry to have a notable background, one that would explain his overall character and I didn't think a one page prologue would do such a thing so I stretched it out to six chapters. Hope you all enjoyed this.

**Chapter 6 – This is the End**

If there was anything Harry wanted to remember when he left, this was it. This was the last time the three of them would be together. But with Ryan's flat grave separating him and Scott things were different, of course, very different.

Harry realized that he could no longer be the rich, carefree, Southern Californian boy he was used to being. The boy who constantly played the guitar or skateboarded on the boardwalk with his friends with little worry.

The ripped blue jeans and Smashing Pumpkins t-shirt that he currently wore didn't cover what he really was on the inside.

_You're a wizard._

Things weren't the same.

The morning after Ryan died Harry had woken in a hospital, confused.

The sterile white walls and the quiet of a single IV fluid drip was strikingly different from the terror he remembered from the night before.

"Harry?" he heard his mother's voice speak from his side and he turned to face the mass of wild red hair. She was paler than usual and the skin under her eyes were dark with fatigue.

"Mom," Harry said, searching her bright green eyes, identical to his own. "Where's Ryan?" Maybe it was a dream after all – maybe he just had a bad trip and he was taken to the Emergency Room. After all, he did meet the dealer from Jessica and she had reason to try and kill him.

His mother looked at him and Harry didn't want to believe the answer he saw in her eyes.

"Ryan's dead." Her voice was monotone and Harry wanted to hit her. He wanted to throw the many vases of flowers that surrounded his room. He wanted to rip the machines that were attached to his body and crash them into the stark white walls. Ryan was _dead._

"Do you remember what happened?" his mother asked in her distinctly British accent and he remembered that Ryan lied about having a crush on her. Ryan liked him, instead. He didn't know how to feel about the fact that Ryan kissed him. He didn't feel that way about him but he would give anything to have him back at that very moment.

"Answer me, Harry" his mother begged.

"Are you a magician?" Harry asked. If Ryan was really…dead, then everything that happened last night was real.

His mother looked at him, her features unreadable and went to shut the door that led out to the busy hallway.

"So it's true, Voldermort was here," she said to him.

"Voldermort! Yes! That's him, that's the guy!" Harry angrily exclaimed and his mother gave a frightened look and shushed him.

"Don't say that so loud," his mother whispered. "I don't know if they've left yet."

Harry shook his head. So it was true, everything that Voldermort told him last night was true. "So you're a magician? And so was my real dad?"

His mother smiled sadly at him. "The correct term is witch," she answered. "I'm a witch and your father was a wizard and you…are a wizard too."

"And Sarah?" Harry asked.

"I don't know yet," she answered, shaking her head.

"But I've never done magic before. How am I a wizard?" Harry asked.

Lily looked at her son with what Harry thought was fear. "You don't have ADD Harry," she finally answered.

"What do you mean I don't have ADD?" Harry asked.

"I didn't want you to be found," his mother answered, her eyes avoiding his.

"So you _drugged _ me? You made me believe that I was some sick kid when I really wasn't?"

"You saw him, didn't you?" his mother asked and Harry didn't answer. "But Harry, it's very important that you tell me everything that happened last night. And don't leave anything out."

Harry wanted to say no, he wanted to shut her out like she did to him. But he also knew that she was the one who could help him – who could tell him everything.

So Harry told her the horrible story as he remembered it. The blond man who killed Ryan. He told her of the short guy he remembered from Los Angeles, cutting his hand off and making a potion for Voldermort to drink. When he relayed the events of Voldermort growing into a regular sized man his mother gasped and whispered something he couldn't understand.

And then he told he story of the wands. "Dad came out…both of them…they said they loved you."

His mother was crying at this point. "James said he wasn't angry," he continued and she began to sob. When she calmed, Harry finished the story with the mystery of the wands.

"I don't know, Harry. I don't know why that happened," she said and began to pace around the room. She paced for nearly ten minutes with Harry barely watching, lost in his own thoughts.

He wondered what Scott was doing at that moment – if he heard what happened. If he blamed him for what happened. It was his fault after all. If he hadn't gotten angry with Ryan for forgetting his stupid drugs this would have been prevented. Voldermort wouldn't have found him and Ryan would be alive.

He looked up when he felt his mother stop in front of him, her green eyes watery with emotion.

"We have to leave Pacific, Harry. We have to go to England."

Harry shot up in his bed and nearly collapsed in pain.

"Harry! Don't move!" his mother exclaimed, but Harry didn't care. "I'm not leaving Pacific," he finally said after the pain began to ebb.

His mother shook her head sympathetically. "I know you don't want to but we have to. We all have to go," she answered. While Harry heard the finality of her voice, he needed for her to reason.

"But I can't just leave Scott here – I can't leave him alone," he said and this time he was crying. As embarrassed as he was to do this in front of his mother, he couldn't control the emotion that was flowing through him. Everything was falling apart.

His mother fiercely hugged him. "I know baby, I know. But you saw what happened. If we want to save everyone we care about, the three of us – we have to leave."

Lily rocked him in her arms for a few moments before pulling her head back and sniffing. "I have to get the nurse and tell her you're awake."

Harry wiped at his eyes. "Ask her to bring something stronger. The medicine isn't really kicking right now," he dryly joked but his mother didn't smile.

"Harry," she began slowly, "This is another thing I wanted to talk to you about."

The broken smile on Harry's face turned into a deep frown, but he didn't answer.

"They said, the doctors said that you were on drugs," his mother finally finished. She looked at her son, searchingly but Harry gave no indication that he heard her.

Lily trampled on. "I had my suspicions of course, the glaringly obvious one of finding you passed out on the porch. I was a bad mother, I know –"

Harry interrupted her. "You weren't a bad mother. I wasn't even on drugs when that happened. Well…not like recently." He stopped.

"Talk to me Harry, please. I'm not going to judge you."

Harry looked at his hands that were folded over each other. "After dad died I didn't know who to talk to. You were busy with the estate and the will and Sarah…Sarah's a smart girl but she's too young to understand what I was doing."

"How about Scott. Ryan?" his mother hesitantly asked him.

Harry shook his head. "I didn't want to talk to them either. It was easier to…be with Jessica because I didn't have to think." He didn't want to look up and see his mother's disappointed eyes.

"Jessica? The Brennan family?

Harry nodded again. "I don't blame her because I went to her knowing what she has. She wasn't as bad as me though. She probably has a few years before she bottoms out."

"What did the two of you do?"

"Um. drugs?" Harry asked, unsure if he could tell his mom everything they did.

His mother nodded. "Yes, drugs. I understand that other things are implied." And despite herself, despite the dire situation, she blushed.

"I did cocaine, mostly." Harry couldn't hear his mother respond, so he stopped, ashamed.

"Harry, I should've known."

Harry began to protest but his mother stopped him. "No. I should know what my children are doing and when they need help." She stopped as a sob rose from within her.

"I'll get you help Harry, I promise." And she hugged him before reaching over and pressing the bright red nurse's button.

After that tense hospital stay, Harry had attended Ryan's large funeral and here he was now, staring at Ryan's gravestone which was pale and it disturbed Harry and Scott because it didn't seem to the capture the great amount of life Ryan had in him. He was an artist.

"Kick ass skateboarder," Scott said interrupting Harry's thoughts. "That's what they should've put." Instead the grave said something brief and insignificant:

Ryan Christopher Canton

January 18, 1980 – May 2, 1996

Beloved Son, Brother, and Friend

"Or the Picasso of the 90s," Harry added.

"Yeah he would've loved that one." Scott paused, leaving a thick silence in the air. "He was in love with you," he finally said. "Like…gay"

Harry hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I know."

"Did you-are you-?" Scott didn't finish.

Harry shook his head, "No, I'm not"

"Like I didn't know," Scott said after a moment. "I thought the way he looked at you was…" he didn't finish. "I wouldn't have cared. He probably didn't know that."

"He knew," Harry lied. "He was just scared."

"Did he know that you're an alien?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Wizard. And no, he didn't know." He told Scott almost as soon as he left the hospital. His mother had warned him against it but Harry knew that Scott needed to know the truth about how Ryan died.

Harry pulled his hair from his eyes, revealing the old scar that had any angry tint of red. His insides ached ever since he went off his ADD medication. The world seemed different now, and Harry could constantly feel the magic course through his body.

"Like Wizard is any less strange," Scott scoffed. Things were quiet for a moment and Harry wondered if Ryan could hear them now.

"I'm moving to Berkeley with my aunt," Scott said, breaking the silence. "My dad, you know, doesn't think Pacific is good anymore. Went on and on about the insurgence of gangs, or whatever. He probably thinks being close to UCB is going to get me in."

"Pacific is the best city in the world," Harry answered. "I wouldn't be leaving if I didn't have to go."

"With you going to London, and Ryan…gone. I don't think I can stay, you know? Too many memories."

Harry nodded. "I know." This was truly the end. "Come on, let's go," Harry said, standing up and brushing the dirt from his jeans. "The plane leaves in four hours and I'm not done packing."

A few hours later, Harry and Scott were in Harry's room, packing up the last of his bedroom.

"Can I have the Dylan poster?" Scott asked him. Harry laughed because ever since three years ago, when he got the signed black and white poster of Bob Dylan, Scott drooled over it.

"Yeah, dude," he answered. "I guess I can pass it on now."

The room was nearly empty, the only thing left were the dark blue baseball curtains that hung on his window. His mom had told Sarah, and him, that they would be back but Harry knew better. From what his mother told him about this Voldermort, Harry didn't know if his luck would continue.

"Harry! The car is here!" he heard his mother shout out to him from the stairs. Harry taped the last box closed and picked up his black carry-on luggage before facing Scott.

"This is the end my friend," Scott said and Harry remembered the time the three of them stole and nearly lost The Doors album that Ryan's dad coveted. Ryan nearly had a heart attack but they found and bought the disk off an old homeless man who refused to give it back without payment.

Scott led them out the door and they walked down the long entryway to the door and stepped out. His mother and sister stood by the car, the sun illuminating their red and blonde heads.

Harry stood on the steps of the porch, facing Scott. "I don't know when I'll be back," Harry said.

"Don't get your first tattoo without me there," Scott answered. They were quiet for a moment when Scott reached over and grabbed Harry into a fierce hug. "Nobody's going to erase the first sixteen years of our lives, dude." Scott said before releasing him.

Harry nodded and took a step backwards. "See you later."

Scott nodded at him. "Go save the world."

And Harry turned and walked toward the car that was driven by his step-brother Michael. As the car drove away he held his head out the window and waved at Scott who was waving back from his position on the porch.

As the car drove away from the opulent castle that he called his home, he could only picture himself sitting on the porch, strumming his guitar, with Ryan on his left – drawing a picture and Scott on his other side bouncing his favorite basketball. Just the three of them.

That moment would never happen again.

**End of Part I**.

Yay! But like I said, Part I was only meant to be an extended prologue. London's calling and that's where we'll meet next.


	8. AWSP Book 2 Ch1 Surrey

**Author's Note:** Wow, I suck. But fear not, I'm a college graduate now who's trying to find something to do once work is over at 5 p.m. So in my post-graduate boredom I found this story again and here I am. And on to the story…

**A Whiter Shade of Pale Pt 2. Chapter 1**

Harry Jacobs didn't like England. When the plane that carried his mother, his younger sister Sarah, and himself touched down the paved tarmac at Heathrow, the small glass window revealed a gray, rainy landscape; the opposite of the sunny California sky they left behind.

"It's still only Spring," he heard his mother say to him apologetically. He turned and looked at her, staring over the blonde head of the sleeping Sarah. His mother was pale, with what he understood to be deserved nervousness. Her red hair was vibrant against her skin.

"It was Spring in Pacific," Harry answered, unable to keep the teenage petulance from his voice. He could envision the pearly blue ocean, and rough yellow sand of the small Southern Californian town he had grown up in.

His other didn't answer. Instead, she gently shook Sarah awake and they mechanically listened to the pilot list off the weather forecast, his voice sounded as drab as the weather outside, and remove their carry-on bags before slowly exiting the plane to the luggage retrieval.

Sarah was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes a half-hour later, as she and Harry stood together as the watched their mother talk to the pimply guy at the car rental booth.

"Where are we going?" Sarah asked her brother. Sarah's reaction to her mother's reveal was strange to Harry. She didn't scream, or have a temper tantrum, instead she took the new found information very calmly and didn't cry when they left their large home for the final time.

Harry shrugged. "No idea, Sars."

Sarah looked critically out at the still-gray skies. "I don't think I like it here. No wonder mom left. It's all gloomy."

Their mom rushed back towards them before Harry could agree with Sarah's statement.

"We have a car now," their mother said, dangling the keys in front of their eyes. "We can get going now," she finished with a wide smile.

Harry could see beyond his mother's happy façade and could tell that she was still very nervous about where that car would take them.

"Where are we going?" Sarah asked again as the three of them walked towards the car, a newer model black Mercedes.

Their mother didn't listen, instead she shooed them into the car after Harry pulled the luggage into the trunk.

"Mom," Harry began as he awkwardly pulled himself into what would have been the driver's seat in America, but was instead the passenger's seat. "Where are we going?"

His mother sighed. "We're going to my sister's home in Surrey. Well, I hope that's where she still is."

"Sister?" Harry and Sarah exclaimed at the same moment. Harry was dumbfounded. All these years and their mother had never mentioned having a sister. Questions arose in his head – why don't they talk? Why didn't his mother ever mention having a sister?

"When I found out that I was…am a witch, Petunia, my sister, was not very found of who I had become," his mother answered slowly, carefully choosing her words.

"So what, you just stopped talking for fifteen years?" Harry asked incredulously.

"That's exactly what happened," his mother responded. "You underestimate the power of prejudice, Harry. She feared who I had become and the people I came to know."

"And your parents? Our grandparents?" How little Harry knew about his mother seemed incredible to him at the moment. He had been so acquainted with his father's family in California that outside of the album of wedding pictures, there was very little that he knew or even asked about. Harry felt, for not the first time, like nothing more than a spoiled kid from Pacific, California.

"They passed a few years before you were born, Harry. And they were quite happy with my destiny. Which only added to Petunia's distance," a small smile poked from the corner of his mother's lips. "When I married James, I made sure to invite Petunia and her dreadful husband Vernon, but they never came." Lily paused, a scowl forming on her pretty features. "I saw of her son's birth in the papers when I was about 7 months pregnant with you, Harry. I sent her a letter requesting to meet with her and little Dudley but she wrote back that her precious kid wouldn't ever know the likes of me. And I suppose that's why I stopped trying to reach out to her."

They were on they highway now. Harry ignored the slight confusion he felt because of the opposite roads and tried to digest the bountiful information he had just received. The past few days had felt like a dream to him – nothing seemed real anymore. Only half a day ago he was saying goodbye to his very best friends and now here he was, cruising down the left side of the road in England.

"Is she mean?" he heard Sarah ask from her place in the backseat.

Their mother paused as if choosing her words very wisely. "Maybe we've spent enough time apart," she vaguely answered.

Sarah seemingly took the answer at face value and settled back into her seat.

The ride to Surrey wasn't long, though slightly terrifying as his mother still tried to get used to the roads. "Playing off memory," she apologized after one particular scare.

Harry could tell that they were close to Surrey – the landscape became more and more suburban and he could see his mother's knuckles whiten as she gripped on the steering wheel.

They pulled into a bland, though nice neighborhood. Privet Drive, the sign read. By this time, they clouds had finally separated and the landscape was sunny and the lawns were bright, green, and prettied by seasonal flowers. A few older women were peering from their gardens as his mother slowly drove down the street.

She stopped as she reached the house the adorned the number 4.

"Number 4, Privet Drive. I think this is it," he heard his mother whisper to herself.

They sat there for a few moments before his mother determinedly turned off the car.

"Let's go, kids," she said, like a solider about the fight his final battle.

All three of them opened their respective doors and slowly inched out of the car. Harry took on some of his mother's anxiety and found himself increasingly nervous.

They left the car and began walking towards the front door, their mother resolutely leading the way. Harry was aware of the eyes following their passage up the driveway. It seemed as though eyes were peeking from every available window.

Sooner than they all anticipated, they reached the oak front door, identical to the doors that adorned the houses on each side.

They stood there for a few moments before Sarah poked at their mother's side. "Mom, knock on the door!"

Startled into life, their mother lifted her thin hand and roughly knocked. Instantly, loud footsteps were heard on the other side.

The door was pulled open, revealing a large, nearly obese blond boy wearing a dark blue t-shirt with white letters that spelled "Phat Pharm" and baggy blue jeans. "Yeah?" the boy asked, giving the visitors an annoyed once over. Harry stared back. This must be his cousin.

"Dudley?" their mother asked. "Is that you?"

Dudley, as he was apparently named, stared back at their mother, a confused expression on his face that made him look decidedly slow. "Who're you?"

"Of course, you wouldn't really know me. I'm Lily, your mother's sister."

Dudley's confusion grew. "I don't remember mum mentioning a sister," he stated.

Their mother nodded, nervously wringing her thin hands. "Of course. We've been estranged for so long."

Dudley stared at the three of them for a moment, before leaning on the door frame and crossing his large arms. Harry could tell that Dudley meant to look intimidating. "You trying to put me on? How do I know you three aren't robbers?"

Harry rolled his eyes, wishing to get off their porch; the neighbors no longer hid their eavesdropping.

Sarah made a loud scoff and Harry turned to his sister with her hand on her hip. "Do I look like a thief to you?" she said, apparently angered by the injustice of the accusation. Harry made eye contact with his mom and they both hid their smirks.

Apparently, Sarah's angry insistence was proof enough that they weren't "robbers". Dudley took pity on them and moved his large figure aside so that they could step inside the entrance. Harry immediately noticed how clean the place was. The many vases were perfectly dusted and the carpets were freshly vacuumed. Harry was almost afraid to touch anything.

Not one thing was out of place and that was shocking for Harry, whose home, much larger than this, was always clean but still – despite it's size, showed signs of life. This place was sorely missing the subtle signs of being lived in and Harry could momentarily understand how the sisters could let their differences separate them.

"Where are your parents, Dudley?" Lily asked.

Dudley shrugged his broad shoulders. "Mum said something about tea at the Everett's house."

Lily smiled and nodded. "Mary Everett was Petty's best friend growing up."

Dudley shrugged again. "Yeah, she said that."

The party of four stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say or do. To his left, Harry noticed Sarah rocking back and forth on her feet; the telltale sign that she needed to use the bathroom.

"Umm," he heard Sarah begin to mutter. "Mom?" Lily looked down and she too noticed Sarah's rocking.

Lily turned back towards Dudley. "Dudley, may we use the restroom?"

Dudley nodded and pointed towards a small hallway. "Third door on the left," he instructed.

After Lily and Sarah left for the bathroom, Dudley and Harry stared at each other awkwardly.

"Your sister talks funny. Where're you from?" Dudley asked, smirking.

"Pacific Beach. It's in Southern California," Harry answered warily.

"Tupac is from California," Dudley answered. "Ever seen him?"

"Um, no, I can't say that I have…" Harry answered, trailing off.

"Big fan," Dudley continued. "'Course, I'm a big fan of Biggie, too. I didn't get this East and West coast rivalry."

"Yeah," Harry answered, unable to contribute much to the story. The two of them couldn't be more different. Harry, who had actually ventured into South Central L.A. knew that Dudley had no idea what it was actually like over there.

They were left in another long stretch of awkward silence. As Harry finally heard his mother and Sarah returning from the bathroom, he also heard a set of keys jingling on the front door of the small house.

As his mother's bright red head lead Sarah from the bathroom, the door opened and a large man who looked like an older version of Dudley appeared.

"What in…?" the man began. He caught sight of Dudley. "Dudley? Who are these people?" he yelled. His face was a mixture of anger and confusion; he seemed unable to decide how angry to appear, treading carefully in case the visitors were important people.

"Vernon, what's the hold up?" a hard feminine voice said from behind the door. She pushed passed her husband and walked in to the scene. Catching sight of the familiar red head of her sister, she stopped.

"Petunia?" his mother said. "It's me, your sister Lily."

Petunia's eyes widened larger than Harry thought was humanly possible. "Li-Lily?" she sputtered.

His mother began to smile. "Yes, Petty, it's me…"

"Get out." Petunia hissed.

The scene, that could have been touching seemed to go south as Petunia's eyes darkened furiously.

"Petunia? It's been so long, I was hoping we would be able to talk about things…"

"GET OUT!" Petunia shouted, startling everyone. "Get out, get out, get out!"

Lily grabbed for Sarah and Harry. "I thought we could talk about things Petty, I haven't seen you in over fifteen years," Lily answered calmly.

"Don't you dare, you _freak_." Petunia said the last word with a long drawn out hiss and Harry looked surveyed the scene in shock, suddenly realizing that his mother may have been right to not contact her sister.

Lily held her head up high, holding on to Sarah's hand. "Well, Petunia, this is your home. But I'm glad I had a chance to meet Dudley, he's a very nice young man. This is my son Harry," she pointed to Harry, "and my daughter Sarah. James died fifteen years ago, Harry and I moved to California, where I met David, Sarah's father. Unfortunately David passed away just a few months ago and I've decided to move back to England. I'm glad we had this chance to catch up – maybe I'll ring you later."

Lily tugged on Sarah's arm and the three of them walked towards the front door, leaving the silenced Dursleys in their wake.

"Mom," Harry said tentatively as they reached their parked rental car. "Mom are you okay?"

His mother didn't answer, instead she unlocked the doors and the three of them silently climbed in the car.

His mother placed her hands on the black steering wheel, her knuckles tensing. She stared straight ahead, not attempting to turn on the car in order to leave.

"Mom?" Harry tried again.

His mother let out a sniffle. "I just thought," she began, tears trailing down her small face. "I just thought that being sisters was enough. My only crime against her was being different, a _freak._"

"We're not freaks!" Sarah exclaimed from the back. The sight of her mother crying brought her to tears too. "We're not!"

Lily, almost shocked that she wasn't alone, looked back at Sarah. "Sweetie…" She leaned towards the back, and hugged awkwardly hugged Sarah.

Harry looked out the window to see Dudley approaching their car. "Mom, look" he said.

Lily looked up to see Dudley and let the window down.

"Sorry about my mum," Dudley said almost shyly and Harry looked back, shocked. "She's…tense," Dudley finished politely.

"Oh thank you, Dudley," Lily answered, wiping at her wet eyes. "You're such a sweet boy."

Dudley nodded. "See you Harry, Sarah." Both Harry and Sarah waved back, surprised at the niceties.

Lily let the window back up and started the car. "We'll find a hotel tonight and tomorrow I suppose is the real test," she said smilingly sadly.

The left the small neighborhood and began the drive towards London.

**TBC**


	9. AN

Wow, I am so embarrassed for myself. I let myself, and this story, drop off the face of the Earth. Well, surprisingly, I never actually forgot about this fic. Since I stopped working on it, I've had this story in the back of my mind - constantly retooling and rewriting. The version that I've created (in my mind) in these two years is practically unrecognizable from the version that's posted on . Regardless, tonight I read through what is posted here and was reenergized by this alternate version of Harry Potter's life.

So, my question is, who is reading this story? If there's anyone out here, I can continue this fic (and go back and proofread — oh, the plot holes)! But if there isn't any interest, I will start over with the new fic I have in mind. Same concept - Harry raised outside of the UK - but this time both James and Lily died on that fateful Halloween night in 1981. Harry was left in the care of Petunia, but was abandoned on a doorstep in New York City, not even a year later during a "family trip." Maybe I'll write both! But I am a graduate student, one semester shy of graduation, so I probably won't have time for both until I'm finished with school and settled in whatever city my career takes me.

Again, just let me know by leaving a review with your thoughts!

3 whereismypen


	10. AWSP Book 2 Ch2 No 12 Grimmauld Place

**AN: ** Thanks for everyone who waited an abysmally long time for me to update. I woke up this morning with a thought in my head that wouldn't escape until I wrote it all down. Thanks for reading! As usual, comments are greatly appreciated. I'm going to spend some time re-reading books 6 and 7 to brush up on my Harry Potter facts – funny how time passes!

-_N_-

It was raining outside. Or, it was raining when they got there but by now the rain had turned into a mist that fogged the windows of the rental black Mercedes. Even thought it was well into May, the evening air was chilly and the three passengers silently waited as they shivered from the cold. Harry could no longer clearly see out his window. Instead, he stared at his mother who gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her already pale knuckles had gone completely white.

Harry and Sarah had been in the car for nearly an hour now, waiting for their mother to do whatever she needed to do in the shabby London neighborhood where their car sat. Harry knew that their car made them look distinctly out of place. A shiny, expensive car surrounded by run-down houses and unkempt yards. He did notice, however, that the street seemed strangely empty. Not empty because it was raining, but empty because he wasn't completely convinced that anyone actually lived on the street.

"Mom?" Harry asked. Through the rearview mirror Harry could see Sarah nodding off to sleep; her thick blonde hair enveloping her small face. Sarah jerked up when Harry spoke but their mother continued to stare ahead, as if she hadn't heard him.

"Mom, whatever you have to do here – just go and do it. Sarah and I are starving."

"I'm not," Sarah interjected and Harry glared at her through the mirror. "Well, I am," he responded. Whatever his mother wanted to do here, she forced them to dress nice. His mother wore black pants and an emerald blue top, while Sarah wore a green dress that they bought that afternoon. Harry brushed his hair and wore a nice pair of jeans, rather than his usual ratty ones, and a clean black shirt. The fact that they had to dress up made Harry nervous, and he wondered if today, like the day before, they were going to meet more of his mom's relatives.

Harry's mother snapped her head up, as if coming awake. "You're right," she whispered more to herself than her children. "It has to be done. I have to go in." She kept nodding and Harry thought she looked like one of those bobbing-head figures that were sold at sports games.

Lily turned her head from her stare at the distance and looked at Harry and Sarah. "I'm going to go in now. You won't see where I'm going but don't worry, you just can't see it yet. Lock the doors." And with that Lily removed her seatbelt and opened the car door. She looked back at her children and once more gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile – which looked more like a grimace to Harry – and left the car.

Harry and Sarah pressed their faces against the chilly window to see their mother better through the foggy mist. They watched her slim figure walk about a block away from the car to an empty clear, where she stopped. They saw her raise her arms to knock on what seemed to just be air before she disappeared moments later. "Weird," Sarah breathed out. "Pretty fucking weird," Harry agreed and Sarah reached over to smack his arm for his language.

-_N_-

As Lily walked down the dark, chilly street, past the rundown homes and the large oak trees, she felt as if she were walking towards the electric chair, ready to be strapped down and sent to meet her maker. She imagined that what she was about to go through would be a very similar experience and wanted to turn around, run back to the car and take Harry and Sarah somewhere far away. But she couldn't keep running. It was time for them to be back.

The misty rain damped Lily's hair and she could feel the meretriciously straightened locks curl into its natural wavy state. Her nice pants and silk shirt were becoming damp, too, and Lily struggled between speeding up to salvage her appearance for a better impression or to slow down, so she wouldn't get to the home before she was ready. But sure enough, before she was ready she reached the home that she hadn't seen in the past 15 years, but had been starting at for the past hour.

She stared at the door, aware that her children thought she was merely staring at air. She raised her hand slowly, her heart beating at a rapid pace, making her feel dangerously light-headed. Her fists clenched, she let the tear that fell from her eye get washed away by the rainy missed and pounded her closed hand against the ugly, battered door.

-_N_-

Prior to the night's meeting of the Order of the Phoenix, a handful of the members including Albus Dumbledore, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Mundungus Fletcher, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, and George Weasley, and Nymphadora Tonks were there to eat dinner. It would be a small group, this evening, as the other members had yet to return from the various missions.

Along with the members of the Order, Ron and Ginny Weasley, as well as Hermione Granger were also there. They all returned the previous evening from their year at Hogwarts. The group sat at the large table that was in the middle of the large, old-fashioned kitchen in Sirius' old home. Mrs. Weasley had cooked an amazing feast of roast, bangers and mash, with Yorkshire pudding. Despite the feast, the mood in the room was somber.

Only a week ago Severus burst in the Order's headquarters, his pasty arm darkened with the glowing dark mark; the dark mark that hadn't appeared in nearly 15 years. That was the last time anyone in the order would see Severus, except for perhaps Dumbledore. Dumbledore currently was politely eating at the head of the table, furthest away from the door. No one but Dumbledore knew what Snape's mission was.

Forks and spoons clinked on plates as they all ate dinner. Ron, the youngest Weasley boy and his muggle-born friend, Hermione, exchanged looks at each other, signifying that they both could feel how uncomfortable the evening felt. At the end of the table, where Dumbledore sat, Ron could see Remus Lupin and Sirius Black whispering furiously with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mundungus Fletcher. His oldest brother, Bill, was listening to the whispers with a furrowed brow. Every once in awhile Ron could make out the words "Order," "Mission," and "the Boy."

Ron could see that Remus could see looked exceptionally pale and knew that it was partially due to the latest full moon. Remus also became pale whenever anyone mentioned, "the boy." So did Sirius, for that matter. Everyone knew that "the boy," was Harry Potter, or "the boy who lived." But Harry Potter hadn't been seen since a few months after the attack that left he-who-must-not-be-named dead nearly 15 years ago.

Or at least, they thought he was dead until now and Ron became sick with the thought. He was only a baby after the first fall of Vold-_he who must not be named_. He didn't know what it was like during his first reign but he knew that the person who ended the first war, Harry Potter, had been missing with his mum for a long time. They were doomed. No one wanted to say it but Ron knew that they were doomed.

Ron sighed and put his fork to the plate again. The Death Eater activity was picking up now and things had gotten more dangerous for Muggleborns and Muggleborn supporters. He glanced at Hermione who's normally bushy brown hair was plaited into a long braid that went down her back. They had kissed for the first time right before they came home for the summer. He wondered if she would bring it up again.

Hermione looked up from her plate and stared back at Ron. He tried to smile for her, and she returned the half-smile, half-grimace. They both turned back to their meals, lost in thought.

Moments later, each person at the table looked up in a start when they heard soft knocks coming from the front door of 12 Grimmauld Place, which was next to where they ate. "Who is that?" Sirius whispered furiously. "Are we expecting anyone else?"

Everyone looked to Dumbledore, whose blue eyes seemed to harden. "No," he said simply, "we are not."

The light knocks came again and Kingsley Shacklebolt stood up, pulling his wand from the pocket of his cloak. "I'll answer it," he said. He nodded to Tonks, another auror, who stood up and followed Kingsley from the dining hall. They listened in baited breath, as they heard the front door open and waited as the whispers drifted into the dining room.

"Please Kingsley," they heard a female voice say; a female voice that didn't belong to Tonks. Ron saw Sirius and Remus turn towards each other. Ron could hear the door close again and as the footsteps grew closer, a woman with long, wavy red hair ran into the dining room. Mrs. Weasley dropped the plate she was preparing to put in the sink and the yelling began.

"Where is he? Where is he?" That was Sirius. Lily recognized almost all of the faces that were gathered in the room, gaping at her. But she bolted towards Dumbledore, who stood as she entered. She kept her green eyes on his blue ones and long, white beard, briefly noticing that he looked almost exactly the same.

She ignored the gasps, the yells, and the hands that were reaching out to touch her. She stopped at Dumbledore, who raised his hand to quite the noise. "I knew he couldn't rise without him," Dumbledore said. His quiet voice was powerful and the feelings of admiration and fear came back to her. This was Dumbledore, he would help her.

Lily let out her breath, letting herself feel the chill and shivered, aware of the eyes that glared into the back of her head. "I need them to get in. I can't get them in without –"

"Of course," Dumbledore interrupted her ramblings. From his cloak pocket he pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Let them in."

Lily took the piece of paper from his hands and put it into her own pocket. She stared at Dumbledore, aware that everyone was waiting for her…waiting for him, Harry. She let out another breath, afraid to turn around; afraid to face them all.

"You brought him. Thank you, but this will be difficult," Dumbledore said to her, his eyes peering into hers.

With that, Lily turned and faced the crowd, the noise of their shock coming back to her. Their eyes looked at her in confusion and disbelief. And anger, she definitely saw anger as she looked at Remus holding Sirius' clothed arm. She looked away and walked out of the room to more yells.

-_N_-

Harry could see from the distance his mother reappear from what looked like thin air. He watched as she walked quickly back to their car, almost jogging. He unlocked the door for her and she slid back into the driver's seat.

"Mom, where did you go?" Sarah asked, pressing her face between the backs of the front chairs.

Lily turned to Sarah and smiled. "You'll see soon, sweetie," she said as she smoothed Sarah's hair down. She removed her hand and wondered for a brief moment how she would explain Sarah. She felt sickened at herself for thinking such a thing and tears welled in her eyes. She knew that Sarah would confuse them because Sarah wasn't James Potter's daughter. Lily forced herself to push the thought from her mind and refocused once again on her children, who were staring at her intently.

"Harry," she began, "you have to realize that me leaving this world made some people very upset. Not about me, but about you."

"Because I'm –"

Lily nodded. "Yes, because you are 'the boy who lived.'" She let Harry take in her statement, recalling their earlier conversation in the hospital, when she explained his notoriety in the wizarding world.

"Those people are in that home that I just went to and they are waiting to see you again."

Harry blinked at her. "You went into air, as far as I could tell," he stated matter-of-factly.

Lily reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper, "the both you, read this to yourselves, and then look back up at where I came from." She waited as they both silently mouthed the phrase, torn between the excitement of them witnessing an amazing bit of magic, and the terror of returning back to that home where she knew she had a lot of people who wanted answers.

Harry gasped first, then Sarah, and Lily knew that at that moment number 12, Grimmauld Place appeared before their very eyes. "Mom…," Sarah breathed in child-like awe.

Lily smiled at them. "They're waiting for us," she whispered. She moved to exit the car, Harry and Sarah following suit.

-_N_-

Inside, Sirius paced the great room, where they had all went after Lily went back outside to get "them." "Them," he didn't know. She didn't say Harry but he knew, he prayed that Harry would be one of them.

The great room was large, but dark and packed with furniture, books, paintings, and the sorts of things that rich people decorated with to remind commoners that they were rich – chaises with articulate prints and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Sirius had to avoid some of these items as he paced.

"Stop pacing, Sirius, you're making me sick," Remus said.

Sirius stopped to look at him and noticed Remus' unusually pale parlor. "15 years, Remus!" he shouted, and Sirius continued to pace. Dumbledore sat in the largest chair in the room, his hands placed on his lap while he wanted. He gave Sirius a bemused stare.

Again, the people in the room were startled by the knock on the front door and Sirius was held back by Remus as Kingsley and Tonks once again left to open the door. They heard the door open and group of footsteps walk down the hall to the great room. Sirius could feel his heart beat as if it were trying to escape.

"MUDBLOODS! GET THE FILTHY MUDBLOODS OUT OF THE HOUSE OF THE BLACKS. _A DISGRACE_."

They had forgotten to cover his mother's painting. Everyone jumped at the sound of her evil voice and Sirius could hear the yelp of a young girl. He briefly wondered why there would be a young girl with them, but stopped as the crowd turned into the great room and the painting silenced.

Sirius had to sit down and he stared at James - no _Harry _Potter. He was Harry because he had the bright green eyes of Lily. He was tall and thin like James, but Harry was tan, as if he spent the entire day on the beach. He black hair was in every direction, like James, but longer and Sirius could see a glimpse of a bright scar on his forehead that was mostly covered by his hair.

With them was a girl, no older than ten, with wavy blonde hair; she also had the eyes of Lily Potter and Sirius held in his gasp. But other than Lily there was no evidence of "Potter," in her. She was much too young and looked nothing like James.

A murmur went through the group and Dumbledore stood up. "Harry Potter," Dumbledore breathed out.

Sirius could see Harry scan the crowd, nervous at the attention. Harry didn't answer Dumbledore.

Dumbledore looked to the young girl, who could only be Lily's child, and was clutching her mother's hand in fright. "And you, young lady, I'm afraid I don't know your name." The girl blinked at him. In a whisper she answered, "My name is Sarah Jacobs."

She's American, Sirius thought to himself. Dumbledore smiled at her," It's nice to meet you, Sarah." He looked to Harry again, who was still scanning the crowd.

"Harry," Sirius finally said.

"You're in the pictures," Harry answered, looking at Sirius and Remus closely. Sirius again heard the distinctly American accent. "You're Sirius Black," Harry said, pointing at Sirius. "And you're Remus Lupin," Harry continued, pointing next at Remus who had a bewildered expression on his face. "You two were friends of my birth father," Harry finished with a heavy breath.

Sirius nodded furiously, blinking back the tears that were building. "You know who I am?"

Harry looked at his mother. "I told him who his father was," Lily answered. "Who you were, but he didn't know about…" Lily trailed off.

"I didn't know about magic," Harry finished for her.

Sirius could hear the whispers of the crowd again and Dumbledore clapped his hands together. He looked to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny Weasley, who were standing together in a spot furthest away from the door. "We are going to begin our meeting," he said pointedly.

"But-," Ron started to argue.

"Go to your rooms, kids," Mr. Weasley quickly interrupted.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny groaned but slowly made their way out of the great room, starting at Harry, Sarah, and Lily as they left.

The door closed behind them. In the large room, Dumbledore configured three other chairs for the new guests, in the middle of the other, where the Order members sat. He ignored the gasps from Harry and Sarah and gestured for everyone to take a seat.

Sirius couldn't help himself once everyone had sat. "All these years, Lily!"

"I know, Sirius. It's been a long time," Lily answered, but Sirius could see her hand shake.

Dumbledore began to speak again and Sirius sat back, staring intently at Harry, who stared at Dumbledore. "Lily, I believe we would all like to know where you have been for the past fifteen years. We have been waiting for some time."

Lily nodded and began. "After everything…after James had died I knew that even with Voldemort –," the room winced, "gone I couldn't raise Harry here; so I left."

Remus began to speak, "where did you go? We looked but by the sounds of it, not in the right place."

"I went as far as I could think to go. I went where no one would know the name Harry Potter. I went to California."

Dumbledore nodded. "And you were able to escape.''

Lily nodded back towards him, deciding to only focus on him since Sirius' glares were becoming incredibly uncomfortable. "And it fine. After three years I got…married, and we moved to a very nice place, and Sarah was born a year later. We had a happy life."

Sirius grunted. "Where's your husband now?" he asked in an accusing tone.

"He's dead," Harry answered for his mother stoically, "magic."

Again the room gasped, and he saw an older lady with red hair clutch the hand of an older man with red hair. There were a lot of redheads in the room.

"Go on, Harry," the ancient man said to him. Harry could tell he was powerful; he had the air of being wise and it was almost as if the others moved at his very command. He reminded Harry of a mixture of Santa Claus and God.

Harry leaned back into his chair and stared into his hands. "A little over a month ago I went to Los Angeles with my best friends Scott…and Ryan. I bumped into this guy who freaks out completely when he sees me. I didn't remember at the time, but I recognized him from the wedding photos. It was Peter Pettigrew."

The crowd gasped and Harry looked up to see everyone staring at him intently and quickly looked back down at his hands. "He freaked out and told me his name was something else, but I knew he was lying. I didn't remember who he was but I knew he was lying about who he said he was. It wasn't until later that I remembered but by then I…" Harry trailed off not waiting to say that he was too busy being a strung-out coke head to tell his mom that he saw Peter Pettigrew on Hollywood Blvd.

"Go on, Harry," the man named Remus said. Harry could tell that he was kind. It was strange seeing them in person, and not just in the pictures he's seen for the past thirteen years. "It's important that you share with us everything that you know."

Harry nodded. "I found out later that he killed my dad. David," he clarified and he thought he saw Sirius pale. "David was my step-dad." He felt ashamed that he had to make that distinction but he continued. "Then one night Ryan and I were going to his place to pick something up." _Coke_, he thought to himself. He wished he had some now so he could be doped up for this moment.

"And this man appeared, out of thin air. The air, popped, and there he was. He had this long, white blond hair. But he was wearing a mask, so I didn't see his face."

"Lucius Malfoy…" Sirius breathed out.

"I told Ryan to run because I didn't know what was happening but I remembered seeing Pettigrew and I remember my mom saying that he was the reason why my birth father died. And I just knew something was wrong." Harry was speaking quickly, and felt pressured to get the words out of his mouth. He felt his mother squeeze his shoulder. "I told Ryan to run but he didn't and the guy with the hair…he pointed his wand at Ryan and said this phrase…a green light came out of his wand…and Ryan was dead."

Harry stopped and rubbed at his face, praying that there weren't any tears. "Harry…" he heard his mother whisper.

"No, I can finish," he said. Harry described the moments after Ryan died, showing his bandaged arms when he described Peter Pettigrew slicing his arm. He described Voldemort's rise from the cauldron, to which his audience gasped. His captive audience gasped again when he described what happened when Harry attempted to use magic himself; of his dads and Ryan all coming out of the want to protect him. When he was done, the room was quiet except for Sarah, who was crying. Harry forgot that she hadn't heard the whole story.

"I didn't think we would ever be found," Lily whispered. "Pettigrew _bumped _into Harry in the second-largest city in America. That's all it took. Why was he even there?" She knew she was beginning to sound hysterical and she looked at Dumbledore, hoping he had the answer.

Dumbledore looked at her gently, "I don't know," he answered.

"We could have protected him," Sirius said, his voice strained with barely kept anger.

"Could you?" Lily snapped back. "Or would he have been forced to become _the boy who lived _his entire life?" She felt her temperature rising with anger. She would have to do this all night – defend herself. But she knew she made the right decision when she left fifteen years ago.

The room was quiet, as if no one knew what to say. Everyone looked to Dumbledore to see what he would say next, but Dumbledore was quiet, too. Finally, Mrs. Weasley spoke. "Harry, Sarah, dear, do you want something to eat?"

Harry nodded. "Please," he said, standing, eager to leave the room. Everyone kept staring at him, like he was an alien; a tall, tan, Yankee alien. He looked at Sarah and saw that she was still gripping their mother's hand and he gestured at her to get up.

"Mom?" Sarah said. Lily patted her daughter's hand. "I'm going to speak more with them; go with your brother," she said with a reassuring smile.

Sarah nodded and stood next to Harry. They let Mrs. Weasley lead them out of the great room, where Harry guessed would be the kitchen. When they opened the door of the great room, they came face-to-face with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, staring sheepishly. Mrs. Weasley glared at them before leading Harry and Sarah out.

"I made a big feast today," Mrs. Weasley said, "so there's enough. We'll make a plate for your mum, too."

Back in the great room, the remaining adults were still quiet, ingesting the tale they just heard. Lily sat alone in the middle of the room, preparing herself for battle.

"Harry's a good kid," Lily said finally. "After David died, he got a little mixed up, but we're taking care of that. He's a good kid."

"A little mixed up?" Remus asked curiously.

Lily paused, weighing her options. Harry's drug _issue _would have to be kept private. "He's fine now," she answered, "and we're here now."

Sirius scoffed. "After fifteen years, you came back. Harry doesn't know a damn thing about magic and he's supposed to be- you know the prophecy, Lily!"

Lily didn't answer. Of course she knew the prophecy. How could she forget it?

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives."_

But she never really believed in Divination. She thought that if she went far enough away, it wouldn't matter.

"How were you even able to hide it from him? Wouldn't an American school have sent letters? Contacted him?" Sirius furiously asked.

Lily could feel her face turn red. "I made sure it wouldn't happen."

"What does that mean, Lily?" Remus asked.

Lily closed her eyes. "If you give a child Methylphenidate, it won't show up. The magic stays…suppressed until you go off of the medication."

"Lily…," she heard Remus breath. She didn't want to open her eyes to see the glare that was coming from Sirius or anyone else in the room.

"He's here now," Dumbledore stated. "We have a lot of work to do."

Lily dropped her head in her hands, knowing that it would be a difficult summer for Harry.

"He missed five years at Hogwarts! Only two people in the entire history of Hogwarts have been able to pass in at the sixth year level," Sirius argued. He began to pace again.

Dumbledore nodded. "Well there are only three and half months until September and he has to go to Hogwarts. It's imperative that he does."

Sirius shook his head. "He knows nothing about magic."

"Enough to do an unforgiveable," Mundungus muttered, but everyone heard him anyway. Tonks shushed him.

Dumbledore pointedly ignored the comment. "We have three and a half months until September, and that amount of time to get him to pass into sixth year studies. And Sarah, is she…?"

Lily shook her head. "She's not old enough…and I don't even know…," she trailed off.

"Well, in any matter," Dumbledore continued, "we have a lot of work to do."

**TBC**


End file.
